And Then There was Peace

The holiday spirit was welling up in me so much last week that I felt brimmed full. There was a trip to Portland and time with family there that I was truly looking forward to. And then I got the call.

My Dad, at 87 years of age, had been slowly failing for some time. His witty conversation had turned to listening and his movement around my parent's modest home was an effort. In mid-November he was diagnosed with inoperable and untreatable lung cancer and given 3 months to a year to live. My kids as well as all his other grandchildren had made special effort to see him. My youngest son had planned for about a month to come to the farm and spend several days in the house with him from December 19-24.

Despite having left the house on Dember 17 to see a Xmas light show, on December 18 Dad could no longer support his own weight, was taken to the local hospital by ambulance, checked out thoroughly and then returned home. Dad had been getting hospice care for a few weeks, but the care drastically changed that day. Luckily most of us from a ways away made it home to say our goodbyes. He waited for me to arrive on Sunday evening before he would rest. By 2:10 am on Tuesday, December 22 he had passed away.

For the distance in miles parts of my family put between other parts we are strong as a unit. Family members pitched in for overnight sessions to make sure if Dad needed anything there was someone there to fulfill those needs. He died in no real pain, smiling to the bitter end because he had lived a fruitful, meaningful, rich life.

I will be staying on the farm until the end of the year to help Mom get reoriented, but she is one tough bird and was in as many ways as possible ready for this new chapter in her life. After the troubled breathing Dad had had for some time it is reassuring he is now at long last at peace.

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