How do you know when it’s the last time? How do you know when you should hug goodbye a little longer? How do you know that this was the last time you’d share a laugh with your friend who is visiting from so far away? How do you know when you say, “See ya next time!”, that there will actually be a next time?
I didn’t know that the last time my father came to visit was probably the last time. I didn’t know that I might not get to hear his standard answer again. It’s a family joke that he has only one go-to response. It doesn’t matter whether we’d ask if he wanted to go for a drive to the dump or watch his grandson play hockey or to have a piece of pie. His loud answer was always the same. “Why not!”
Why not indeed.
My dad is in a home now, warehoused with all the others who are waiting to die. I always thought my mother’s rapid decline and death at 63 was tragic. Now I’m not so sure.
There are many things wrong with this culture; our separation between the living and dying being one of them. But I also respect his wish not to come here to live with us. I think I might even understand it. And maybe I’m wrong about the care home. Maybe it’s just easier to let go in a place like that. Maybe it’s a safer place to be tired and cared for and to wish for that forever sleep.
I didn’t know it was the last time when Dad visited this spring. I wish now I’d hugged him harder. I wished I’d have gone on more walks with him. I wish.
And maybe I’m wrong. He’s just a little sick right now. He could rally again. Maybe we’ll be able to reschedule another visit. But at 85-years old, maybe not.
The expression is to love like you’ve never been hurt, but perhaps the instructions should be that we should love in spite of the pain.
How do you know when it’s the last time? We don’t. But we need to live as if we do.
Colleen, I’ve been on this journey several times, and it never gets easier. I hope I get a little bit wiser each time, but the emotional upheaval is so difficult that it overrides wisdom and logic.
I’ve gone through the nursing home experience, and it’s not pretty. Caring for elderly people at home is difficult, too, and it takes a special talent to make that work successfully. If I think about what I’d want for myself, I almost think it would be easier to have “strangers” care for me, and not place that kind of burden on my children.
I’m sorry to hear your dad isn’t doing well right now, and please know you aren’t alone in this kind of struggle. I pray for wisdom and strength for you and your family.
Becca, your insight is so appreciated. I hadn’t really thought about what I’d want for myself and I think you’re right…it would be easier to have ‘strangers’ care for me. That’s helped my thinking. Thank you.
Thank you Colleen, Laurie, Joan and Karen. I’ve just recently started going through this for the first time with someone dear (not a parent but close) and I have no idea how to handle it. Every visit she is less able, less present, and every visit feels like a loss. We both cry when I leave. I want to be in the moment and enjoy being with her but I don’t know how, there’s such a sense of grieving. It helps a lot to know how universal this struggle is. You’re all very wise.
I saw my dad yesterday and the decline is dramatic. His soul is dying in that place and no matter which scenario I try to imagine, I am up against a wall that forces me to do nothing but visit. And maybe, like what you’re doing with your friend, that’s all we can do.
But it feels so inadequate. I beg for wisdom to do the right thing, and yet, Sophia remains silent.
Having regrets about my Mother and Father have been really difficult to come to terms with. In many ways it is my regrets that have helped me value my life and relationships with my family and dear friends. A call, an email even a silly comment on face book all mean something.
I have a 75-year old cousin who lives near me and she has so many wonderful memories of my Mother and Father. I love talking to her, hearing her stories and sharing a pot of tea. I rekindled my relationship with her two years ago when I moved back to my home town. She is who I now aspire to be like.
I bring her little presents and gifts and she insists I take them home, of course I don’t. She always cooks for me or arranges to take me out to dinner. I decided one day to take HER a dinner that I prepared. I brought everything over to her house even the flowers and candles. After I arrived I found out that it just happened to be her birthday that day! I call that perfect timing as she never would have told me.
Sadly enough, she was diagnosed with cancer and it does not look good. I will continue to be in her life and she will be in mine.
Thank you Colleen for stirring up these feelings in me.
Thank you too, for allowing me to share in your journey.
Karen, What a wonderful gift you have given to each other. I have a perfect picture of you huddling over that teapot with your stories. Isn’t life so incredibly beautiful because of it’s pain? But it’s like you say…it’s those regrets that inform who you are and how you relate to everyone today. Thank you for such a good story. Do you think we’re finally getting to be wise women?
I know how you feel Colleen. I am approaching that oasis and my Mom is with me on the journey. I know now how she must have felt as she began to age, and how valiant she was. It is a heart wrenching time and we’re damned if we do and damned if we don’t. I guess the only thing we can do is visit as often as we can. It is after all their journey. And ours as we age. Joan
Oh Joan. You are so very wise. That is what I have to keep telling myself. It’s what he needs to do. Not how or what I want it to be. Thanks.
Wow. What a powerful post. I can feel the wrenching loss… but then again, I have direct experience of just how your love is expressed to those in your life, and I will not believe you or your father were shortchanged in sharing it. If you are anything, Colleen, you are fully present in whatever reality life brings to you in the moment. I constantly learn that from you.
Laurie. Bless you a million times for this. I feel like I’m only ever grasping a smidgen of what I need to know to deal with life and all its endless gyrations. Thanks 🙂