My Dad’s Last Days: a Final Message, the Bright Moment & a Peaceful Transition

It’s been well over a month since I’ve blogged.

I’ve been contemplating what I may write about for my first post of 2012.

Should I focus on the latest health trend and tips for the New Year?

No…I decided that my first post this year would be a little more personal rather than resume to my regular health and wellness message.

As I considered writing this post, I realized that this is a part of my own healing, the grieving process, and the hope of encouraging anyone who is dealing with the loss of a loved one.

My father passed away on Tuesday, December 27th. I miss him deeply and there’s not a minute in the day that I’m not thinking about him.

My father had a respiratory illness and in his final months, weeks and days it was heart-wrenching to watch him struggle with his breathing. Even swallowing food had become difficult.

I made a dreaded phone call to his doctor and after discussing my dad’s condition, I was told that it was time to prepare the family, that our dad didn’t have much longer to live, and we needed to make some tough decisions as a family.

I hung up the phone and sat at my desk with streams of tears. No matter how much I prepared mentally from receiving the news of his illness being in the end stage over a year ago, nothing has been more heart-breaking than to hear those words from the doctor.

I called my sister in Connecticut and together we called our mom with the latest report. After consulting with the rest of my siblings, we felt that it was best to admit our dad into the hospital.

That would be his last hospital stay.

My siblings from out of state and country got on the next available flight and we were all together at our dad’s side within 24 hours.

His doctors came to talk with us and then proceeded to spend time with our dad and told him that it was time to let nature take its course. Dad knew what that meant and he accepted it.

My dad was man of faith and there was a sense of peace that swept over him.

My father was released from the hospital at the end of the week and went home on hospice care. I can’t tell you what an amazing organization hospice is and how they eased our concerns about the end of life process.

My sister (a NUN) is also a nurse who cares for patients with similar illnesses as our dad; hence, having her home during this time was such a blessing. She exudes peace and calmness under the most critical situations and because of her background and knowledge in this area, she was instrumental in helping us learn how to provide palliative care for dad when hospice wasn’t present.

We rearranged our parents’ bedroom to make room for the hospital bed that he would now spend most of his time in and tried to make it as comfortable as we possibly could.

He was barely able to get out of bed and his small frame was getting smaller by the day and we knew every moment with our dad was a gift.

Dad was home for no more than 24 hours when he called for all five of my siblings and me to his bedside. It was becoming increasingly difficult for him to talk for long periods without becoming winded but he wanted to share his final thoughts with all of us together while he had some strength.

There were many things shared between all of us but the most important message dad wanted us to walk away with was Love.

Our dad reminded us of how we came to America with only $25 but that his family is his true treasures. He wanted us to know that nothing meant more to him than for the family to stick together like glue after he was gone.

He commissioned us to do whatever it took to keep the family unified; to love one another and to not allow anything to break up our family unit.

He wanted us to make sure that his message of love would extend beyond to our children. At the end of life, nothing is more significant than love.

This is so true. “Love never fails [never fades out or becomes obsolete or comes to an end] (1 Cor. 13:8, AMP).

By midweek, my dad’s health seemed like it was miraculously improving; he had a sudden burst of energy and was able to enjoy certain moments with us out of bed.

Some days he’d sit in his wheel chair at the kitchen table for hours before retiring.

We didn’t know what to make of his burst of energy. I called my sister (the nurse) with excitement to tell her what we were witnessing only to be told not to get our hopes up but to enjoy this “bright moment.”

She recognized these symptoms due to caring for similar ill patients and what we were experiencing with our dad was actually some of the signs of death drawing near. She also said not everyone experiences this.

The hospice nurse also explained that this surge of energy or bright moment is believed to be a final gift that allows the dying to enjoy their last moments, time with loved ones, and the strength to handle the last details of their life.

My sister was right on. It was a gift indeed and our dad made it through Christmas (just as he’d desired).

That morning, we wheeled him out to the living room where he enjoyed some time basking in the sun in front of the window, donning a pair of sunglasses.

It was a precious sight and would be the last picture that I captured of him.

I went home that evening to spend Christmas with my family and was scheduled to return to my parents on Tuesday.

My sister rang at 4:30 am on Tuesday morning. I could tell she was trying to remain strong and  informed me that the hospice nurse arrived and that we needed to try to get there quickly as our dad didn’t have much  longer.

We dashed downstairs and got into our car and headed to Wisconsin…what normally is just over an hour drive seemed like an infinity.

We prayed for peace to surround my dad and for God to keep him alive until we arrived.

I was sobbing by this time knowing that minutes were standing between our final moments together.

We arrived at 5:55am and went straight to his bedside where the rest of my family was already present.

My siblings stepped away to allow me time with my dad.

As tears flood my face, I held his hand and bent down close to his face and began talking with him. I knew he could hear me because I learned that when a person is dying, hearing is the last of the five senses to go.

I told him that I was there with him and named each of his kids that were also at his side.

I told him how much I loved him and what a good father he was to all of us, how grateful we were for the many sacrifices he made so that we could have the best life possible.

I told my dad that I didn’t want him to suffer anymore and that it was OK to rest now; that heaven is a beautiful place and we will see him again.

I told him that his angels were there ready for him and Jesus was waiting. I also reassured him that mom would be taken cared of.

At 6:16am my father closed his eyes and took his last breath.

It was a peaceful transition.

If there is such a thing as dying gracefully…our dad experienced it. I will forever cherish this memory; it was truly a gift to be able to be with my dad as he transitioned into his new  home.

The pain of losing someone you love so deeply cannot be described with words and going through the grieving process cannot be escaped.

However, as a Christian, it is our belief that to be absent from the body is to be present with the Lord (2 Cor. 5:8).

One Minute After You Die describes death as “the means by which our bodies are put to rest while our spirits are escorted through the gates of heaven.”

God has put eternity in the hearts of man and for all who believe; therefore, this death is not the end. (Ecc. 3:11, 1 Cor. 15: 54-55)

Knowing that my dad went right into the arms of our heavenly father and that he is more alive now then ever, free from pain and suffering; and that we will all be together again one day gives us such hope, comfort and peace during this difficult journey.

My dad lived a life that was full of purpose and I couldn’t be more proud of the legacy that he left: love, compassion, generosity, and servanthood (Beloit Daily News final tribute). 

This was a beautiful poem that my daughter read at the funeral service and I believe it will bring encouragement to anyone who has lost a loved one.

Safely Home

“I am home in Heaven, dear ones; Oh, so happy and so bright!
There is perfect joy and beauty In this everlasting light.

All the pain and grief is over, Every restless tossing passed;
I am now at peace forever, safely home in Heaven at last.

Did you wonder I so calmly Trod the valley of the shade?
Oh! but Jesus’ arm to lean on, Could I have one doubt or dread?

Then you must not grieve so sorely, For I love you dearly still;
Try to look beyond earth’s shadows, Pray to trust our Father’s Will.

There is work still waiting for you, So you must not idly stand;
Do it now, while life remaineth–You shall rest in Jesus’ land.

When that work is all completed, He will gently call you Home;
Oh, the rapture of that meeting, Oh, the joy to see you come!”  ~Unknown

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Tagged as: Bright Moment, Death is Not the End, Death of a Loved One, Dying Process, Eternity, Hospice, One Minute After You Die, Surge of Energy