Dad

Dad was transferred to Riverview in Crookston late last week. He seemed in excellent spirits. In fact, he met with a physical therapist and was eager to get up and start walking again. That was on Friday. On Saturday Kristie, the kids, and I stopped by for a brief visit. He was in fine spirits and we had a nice time. But we had some things to take care of, so we left. Later that night, he called worried about the roads and how we were going to get home safely. I reassured him that we would make it, but he still insisted on giving us the safest route home. I even joked that I had the cruise on just to be safe. Dad chuckled knowing that I was kidding.

The next day Barb called saying that Dad might have suffered a small stroke. He had trouble talking, numbness in his arm, and seemed disoriented. So we visited yesterday and found Dad to be suffering quite a bit. He must have had a more violent stroke. I could hardly understand him. He was alert; he just couldn't speak well enough. Kristie was in tears at seeing him change so suddenly.

The doctor ran a ct-scan and saw hints of a stroke, but there appeared to be no severe bleeding and it wasn't a tumor in his brain.

Kevin and his wife were arrived, so we turned on the TV. The Rose Bowl was on and Dad kept slurring "RRRRRROOOOOOSSSS." Finally, I realized he was asking if it was the Rose Bowl. Then he growled "MMMICCCCHHH," which of course was him asking if Michigan was playing. So he was alert. But it was a struggle to communicate effectively.

Barb and Matt showed up and she was visibly shaken too. For Dad had changed quite a bit since she saw him last. Then Dad became very tired and we went to the family room to visit. We met with the doctor and she said that they were doing everything for him - including giving him some morphine. But she said something I'll never forget, "Are we prolonging life or prolonging death?" I thought that was very well put. Dad had put up a valiant effort in the face of all his suffering, but his time was approaching.

Dad seemed in good spirits, though he couldn't talk very well. As we left, he shook my hand and nodded. Finally, around six we decided to head home.

As we walked in the door and began to get settled, the phone rang. The nurse had called Barb and told her to get to Riverview right away for it seemed like Dad was having a heart attack.

So we raced up there, and met the doctor as we walked in. She said Dad was suffering a series of minor heart attacks. They had scheduled a second ct-scan and more blood work, but Dad refused. He knew his time was at hand and didn't want to prolong death any longer. I didn't want him to either.

We sat around Dad, making him as comfortable as possible. Barb asked Kev and me into the hallway. She had contacted the priest from town and was wondering if we should ask Dad if he'd like to convert to Catholicism. Barb is a devout Catholic. My brother is somewhat of a religious mutt, though he was baptized a Jehovah's Witness many years ago and hasn't really followed any organized religion in roughly 15 years. I'm Catholic, but not to the degree Barb is. Dad always clung to his Southern Baptist roots and didn't convert when he married Mom. Barb didn't want to ask him. Neither did I. I agreed with Barb's husband, let him be. But Kevin said that he would ask him. And sure enough Dad squeezed his hand when Kevin asked him if he'd like to convert. So father came up and we had a quick ceremony. Dad tried his best to pray, mumbling along with the Lord's Prayer and shaking Father's hand when he was all done.

Then we left him to sleep. Kevin went home while Barb, Kristie, and I stayed the night in the family room. Finally, early this morning, the nurse came in and said that he was passing. I heard him moan and knew that his heart was giving out. By the time I made it to his side, he was all but gone. All that was left were a few reflexive gasps of air - just like my mom suffered when she passed. Then he was gone.

We moved back to the family room and waited for Kevin to get there. When we all gathered there in about an hour, we began talking and laughing about Dad and our family. Someone from the funeral home came in and said he wasn't sure he had the right place because he heard laughter. I liked that. It said a lot about our family and our father.

Now we begin on the burial process. I have begun calling family and friends. We are meeting tomorrow at ten to go over his will and things. Then we meet with Father about the funeral. It looks like a wake on Friday and the funeral in town on Saturday.

I am not being boastful when I say that Dad was quite possibly the most loved man in town. The flood of visitors and phone calls we have gotten in the past three weeks have been incredible.

I will grieve for the things that we won't be able to do together anymore, but that grief pales, absolutely pales, in comparison to the joy and love of all the things that we did together.