When I found out that my dad had dementia, I had no desire to see him. The thought of knowing he might not recognize me was more than I could bear. As it was, seeing him in his weakened state, completely dependent on mom was a challenge. He's my dad. He's supposed to be strong, independent, self reliant. Old age had robbed him of these and reduced him to a needy child. It was too hard to see.
This weighed heavy on my heart, however. I remember sometime in early July confessing this fear to Fr Joseph. His advice was to pray for the courage to go and then go. He emphasized how critical it was for me to see dad before it got to be too late but I remained fearful. I prayed for courage then mostly forgot about it as I went on my vacation to Chicago.
While in Chicago, I had the good fortune of sharing a room with two amazing women, both single and Catholic. We even had one night of silly, up-all-night girl talk about everything under the sun. Dad was one topic. Ruanne had gone though something very similar with her dad who had passed just 3 months prior. She was empathetic and agreed that a trip south was in order.
Two weeks after I returned from my vacation, I learned that dad was in the hospital. He fell and broke his collar bone but apparently would be ok. This was the knock in the head with a hammer that I needed (prayed for?) to see dad. Without giving it a second thought, I bought my ticket and flew down 3 days later.
Seeing dad lying in his hospital bed, bruised, broken and frail, was so hard but God gave me the courage to see him every night for a week. Even when I thought I couldn't handle seeing him that way any more, I still went. And I am so thankful for that. I had no idea that this would be the my last opportunity to visit with him, touch him, talk with him. Before he went into respiratory distress, I counted on him returning home as I did the same but that wasn't going to happen. Thankfully, two days before I was scheduled to go home, I changed my flight which allowed me to stay a week longer. I wasn't satisfied with dad's progress and wanted to be sure of it. The following day he was put on life support, never to return.
In retrospect, the two weeks I spent in California were all part of God's greater plan. It had been 14 months since I last saw Maureen - holding her hand, watching her suffer, loving her through the vomit and mess, even when I thought I could endure no more. While I was with her, I learned compassion, tolerance and love in the face of death. I learned that God will give me all of the tools needed to face the unimaginable and that He would hold me up when I no longer had strength. I learned that my heart could bear so much more than I ever thought possible and that my fears had no place there. I learned to trust the love of God and allow that love to come through me, to reach her. Ironically or strategically, that described my time with dad.
After being told the damage to his lungs was irreparable and there was no hope, I promised dad I wouldn't leave his side. I would not let him die alone. And it was only by God's grace that I was able to get through watching the pain as he was "turned" every two hours or had phlegm sucked out of his lungs. It was His hand that dad squeezed as the phlebotomist tried to draw blood several times from his swollen and lifeless arms. As he lie there helpless, I was allowed to be his advocate, to protect him and keep him safe the way he had done for me when I was little. It was such a gift. I had also been given the gift of time with dad - to tell him I loved him, to ask his forgiveness, to pray with him and to forgive him. For 5 days, I cried over, prayed with and cherished every minute. If there was ever a beautiful moment in my life, it was every minute of every day that we spent together, up to and even after his passing.I'm amazed at the experiences God had brought me through. Amazed that I survived them, amazed that I have learned and grown from them. More than that, I am amazed at how much bigger my heart has become as a result. I can only imagine what He continues to prepare me for. While I'm sure it will involve more heartache, I believe there will be many more beautiful moments like these. And I can finally say "I'm ready, Lord, for whatever you have planned for me" because I know, in the end, it will bring Him glory. Isn't that what I was created for?
