I had a whole day of knitting planned for yesterday. Dale was going to be leaving first thing in the morning to go to a living history in Connecticut. Hannah was still on Martha’s Vineyard and I was looking forward to a day to myself so I could knit, with occasional breaks for spinning and perhaps even blocking the Adamas Shawl.
And then my phone rang at 7:30 am. And it was my stepbrother’s wife, calling to tell me that they were at the hospital with my dad and it looked like he was nearing the end of his life. One simple phone call and everything changed. Not just my plans for the day or my plans for the next few days but really for the rest of my life.
I was able to reach Dale on the road (what did we do before cell phones?) and we were at the hospital at 8:45. We had a visit with my dad, he was awake and talking, but he continued to grow weaker and less responsive as the day went on. The family gathered: both my stepbrothers and their wives as well as their children, my stepsister and her family and stepcousins and basically anyone who wanted to be able to say goodbye was able to do so. There were stories told and there was teasing and sharing and not just a few tears. Just about the time we were wondering if perhaps we should make plans for leaving and taking turns being in his room my dad’s breathing changed significantly. And at 7:30 pm, right after the Red Sox game ended, my dad quietly passed away.
Ours had been a complex and sometimes difficult relationship. Technically, he was my stepfather, but he had been in my life since I was 4 and married to my mother since I was 6, so that term seems inadequate and disrespectful for someone who always acted just like a “real” father. I adored him when I was a child, couldn’t stand him when I was a teenager and young adult, and quite frankly resented him when my mother died 8 years ago. Somewhere over the last few years I accepted him for who he was, faults and all, just as he accepted me and all my faults many years ago. Isn’t it funny how life comes full circle?
And now the business of death takes over – the arrangements and plans and ceremonies that serve to distract us for a few days – while we learn to cope with the loss. This wasn’t really unexpected as he had been in the hospital for the past several months and he lived a full life of 83 years up until that time. But even so, it’s life altering.
I’m sorry for your loss. Thinking of you and your family. I’m glad you guys had that bit with him at the end.
I’m so sorry for your loss. I’m glad you had reached a level of understanding about your feelings for your father. Having lost both parents I know how important that is at the end.
You and your family are in my thoughts.
love and comfort to you dear one. I am glad that you got to be with him at the very end –
Carole,
My deepest condolences to you and your family. I’m so sorry for your loss. Even when it is not unexpected, one can never be prepared. I am glad to hear you had made a peace in your relationship before he passed and that you could all be together with him.
Oh Carole, I’m so sorry to hear about the passing of your dad. Changes are never easy. Hang in there and let me know what I can do. I’m thinking of you.
Carole, I’m so sorry for the loss in your family. I know it all too well right now. I wish I would have commented earlier, but my feed for you wasn’t working. My thoughts will be with you as you deal with the preparations and good byes of the coming days.
I’m so very sorry for your loss. I’m happy that you were able to say your final goodbyes to him.
I am so sorry for you and your family. It was wonderful that you all got that last time together with him. You are in my thoughts.
Well gosh. I’m always late to the party. I’m so sorry to hear of your loss Carole. But so glad to know you felt okay about the relationship that you developed with him. I’m thinking about you. Hugs winging their way to you and your family.
Carole, I’m so sorry for your loss. I’m sending lots of hugs & prayers your way.
So sorry to hear about your loss. You will be going through a hard time, but just remember that your knitting community is with you.
God Bless
I am so sorry to hear of your loss. You have touched my life so many times with your kindness and I have no doubt you touched your Dad’s life in the same way.
(((Hugs)))
I’m sorry to hear about your loss. May those who love you give you great comfort.
You and your family are in my thoughts tonight.
Carole –
I know this is a tough time, having just lost my dad in Feb. Sounds like you have a supportive family – which is a blessing at this hard time.
Hugs to you. There will be many laughs and tears shared in the next few days. Remember in the days to come that we are thinking of you.
Jeannie
Oh, dear. This is what I get for not reading blogs in my self-absorption. I miss a trauma in the life of someone I care very much about. I’m so sorry, Carole. It’s never, ever easy to lose someone. I hope you and your family can find ways to ease one another’s grief. Much love to you.
My thoughts are with you and your family during this difficult time.
oh carole, i am so sorry for your loss.
Just returned from vacation & was catching up on blogs…so sorry to hear this news. I’m glad you got to spend his last hours with him.