A bit long, so fel free to jump to the end for a short summary.
Death watch for a loved one is a strange thing. On the one hand, you don’t want them to suffer. You want them free from pain and from a broken body or mind, and (if you believe in an afterlife) free to move on. At the same time, it seems ghoulish (or worse) to want them to die, to hurry up and go. And the more you love them, the harder that is to face.
In some cases (strokes, heavy sedations, major trauma, advanced aging, etc.) you look into their eyes and can’t see if anyone’s home. Or they don’t look like the eyes you remember. Or some other discontinuity, cognitive dissonance, hallucination, whatever. Are they really still there? Or is the body just carrying on, clueless that its inhabitant has left it to return to ashes and dust? Maybe you chance it and speak to them. Maybe you pour out your love, your pain, your anger, your questions. Maybe you don’t. Anything goes on death watch if no one’s watching - and sometimes regardless of who is.
On Tuesday, Dad just collapsed. He broke his femur, his pelvis, and had some spinal damage. They found heart problems and an aneurysm as well. At 95, these things are not surprising. At 95, no one’s really a candidate for major surgery - the anesthesia alone could kill you or damage the brain. And Dad had made it clear he didn’t want heroic measures to save him. So they sedated him. Occasionally he’d come out of that and recognize us, interact with as well as he could. The collapse may have been the result of a stroke, and he almost certainly had another by Wednesday afternoon.
Saturday night, after three days of death watch by family and friends, Dad died peacefully in his sleep. Sharon and I were there, along with Mom II and one of my siblings. After those who could come arrived and we had some time with him, the VA hospital staff (who have been truly wonderful) cleaned him up, and we all lined up for his Honor Walk. Someone read a short speech on behalf of the president and country honoring him for his service, then Taps was played as they took him by us on a gurney, covered with the flag representing the country he cherished.
Dad, you were a good father, husband, brother, son, friend, teacher, researcher, chemist, leader, and citizen. You were a true patriot, a survivor, a POW who deserved far more honor. We love you and miss you already. Don’t rest in peace. Have a blast. Those last three days before you passed were hard, but I wouldn’t trade them for anything.
(Dad had been declining for a couple of years. Both the last two times I visited, I told him goodbye in my heart and head, so everything since was bonus levels.)
TL;DR
Dad passed away the other night. Several of us were with him. I’m doing OK, AFAICT; ask me after I’m not busy supporting others through the process. Some are having a harder time, especially Mom II. Most of us have great support groups (and I include y’all in mine), and we have each other.
