A Final "Good-bye"

As Papa's health has been rapidly decreasing, we have been having open and honest, and very, very, very difficult and mature conversations with our children about Papa's life, and consequently his inevitable death.

We had a wonderful 75th birthday celebration for Papa back on October 30, 2016.  He was home and surrounded by his family and closest friends.  Even then, his mental and physical capabilities were obvious and rapidly declining.  However, he was still moving around (mostly) independently and was alert and conversational, albeit, often confused.  His kindness, sense of humor and laugh have thankfully, been forever present.  Papa's birthday was our last special memory together.  I'm thankful our kids have this moment in time to remember their Papa.  By December he was immobile, much altered and became hospitalized. He was released from the hospital, just days before Christmas, to a group care facility.  Papa has spent most of his final days sleeping.

To say it is difficult to witness, let alone visit him, is an understatement.  As each of us lets go and grieves differently, so do our children.  We respect how differently our kids have been responding and love them all the more for so bravely and respectfully and openly sharing their thoughts with us.  Papa won't ever get better and each visit is more emotional than the previous.  Steve and I may continue to visit, but we decided as a family that we would make one last visit to love on Papa and say a final "good-bye".

Last Saturday was our final visit.  Having never said my forever good-byes to a parent, I didn't exactly know how to do it, how to model it for our children.  Comforted by my own words to the kids, "there is no one way to say, 'good-bye' to a loved one,q" we set out to visit Papa.  It was every bit as emotional and challenging as I thought it would be.  What I didn't anticipate was the beauty and peace that was that moment.  Our kids didn't need modeling.  I believe they only needed our permission to love him and let him go.  They listened to and followed the needs of their own hearts.  I followed their lead.  Each of us loved and honored Papa in the way that was just right for us.  Both of my kids carefully cuddled and hugged him, they fed him ice chips with their loving and gentle hands.  We sang, we cried, we read to Papa and when his eyes fluttered open, we each looked deep into them, sending him, willing him, love and peace and courage for his next adventure.

Beauty.  It's there.  You have to really look hard to find it embedded in all the signs of death, but it's there.  Death feels dark.  Permanent.  Lonely.  Scary.  Stressful.  Confusing.  Dizzying and breathless.  Thank God, our final "good-bye" was also an amazingly quiet, lovely, peaceful event and was so, so, so beautiful.

I hope my kids will always remember Papa's love, kindness, sense of humor, and beauty throughout ALL of his life, even in the end.  Especially in the end.