Filed under: An account of the first week
It’s been awhile since I’ve written about the details of that morning….it is getting hard to do, but I have to do it. It’s an important part of my grieving process. I make myself go there, think about the hard things, feel the hurt and pain, it’s the only way to properly heal I suppose.
So after I realized she was right and there was no pulse….the first…oh I’d say a minute, maybe a minute and a half was shock I think (even though it was expected) because I didn’t feel anything I just kinda stood there….then I fixed his head on his pillow because it was off to one side and pulled up the blankets, then the tears started flowing, just as they are right now. I stood at his bedside balling my head off. My mom just stood there not saying anything. She doesn’t do well with emotions. I kinda feel bad for her. She says emotions in public are a sign of weakness. If that’s the case I’m happy to be weak. But she deals with things in her own way, and I support her in that, I just hope she does deal with it and doesn’t ignore it and let things build up, could be why she’s always so stressed because she doesn’t let out emotions. Anyways…
I stood there for awhile I guess….then I told mom I would give her a few minutes alone, I thought maybe she would let the tears come if I left the room and left her alone for awhile. I went into the livingroom and collapsed on the couch. I pulled my cell phone out of my pocket and dialed Shane’s blackberry. He answered half asleep, I gave him a moment to wake up then I said “He’s gone” I had a hard time getting those 2 words out. We hung up and I sat in the living room starring out the window crying for about 5 more minutes and went back to the room and curled up in the chair again. My mom was still standing in the same spot i had left her in.
A few minutes later, around 5:30, the head nurse comes in (the care worker called her after discovering the lack of pulse). She is a familiar and comforting sight to me as I worked for her for 2 years in one of her other homes and always had a good relationship with her. She hugs us both and goes to the bedside to confirm what we already know.
She goes out to call the funeral home. Some families like to leave before the funeral home comes, others stay and wait and they need their loved one to leave before they can, as closure. I fall into the second category. We sat in the room and chatted about my dad and his journey and his time he spent with them at the home.
I finished my glass of water and walked out to the kitchen to place the empty glass in the sink, as I was walking by the front door I saw tail lights backing up towards the door. My heart jumped and I froze. I quickly walked ran back to the room in half a panic. “The funeral home is here, and I’m not ready” “I need a minute”. The nurse and my mom left the room and I approached the bedside once more. I said my goodbyes. I know he was already gone, but I believe in my heart he knows I said good bye. I said I love you, I’ll miss you, but I had already missed him because of the disease, and that I knew he was with his mom and dad and meeting his older brother for the first time (my dad had an older brother that died as a young baby), and that I knew he was at peace and I was happy for him. “I love you Dad”
I walked out of the room, a big pile of tears again and told them I was ready. My mom went into another room as she didn’t even want to see him bring the stretcher into the house. I needed to see it. So I stayed. I stood just inside the room and the man from the funeral home (Ian) asked if it was okay to bring the stretcher in, I said yes. The nurse told him I wanted to help, that I worked for her before and had seen that being done before. It was true, I had, I have to admit it’s a little alot different when it’s your own father, but yes I was used to being around persons just after they passed so maybe on some level that did make it a little easier for me.
Ian postioned the stretcher beside the bed and was lifting from the left side, the nurse was on the other side of the bed lifting the right side, now for her, she had to reach across the bed, I stood at the head, just supporting his head for the move. I appreciate this next part. It made me laugh, I appreciated that laugh right at the moment. I’ll need to give you a bit of history at this moment in order for you to appreciate it too. With Alzheimer’s disease it’s common for people to not understand whats going on around them, and get scared and sometimes be a little verbal or aggressive. With my dad, you always had to move slow, and explain gently what you were doing, i.e., helping him up, shaving him, bathing, getting dressed. Any quick movements or jarring him at all would result in you getting cursed at. Did this have a bit of humour to it. So as I mentioned the nurse had to reach across the bed and she didn’t quite have enough of a grip because as they lifted him her grip slipped a bit and he fell back onto the bed (just by an inch or so, we didn’t have him moved at all, just started to lift). She said “oh sorry Cedric” then smiled and said “good thing he isn’t alive” I laughed and smiled and said “you would have just got cursed at” we chuckled. I appreciate that moment. We then moved him onto the stretcher and my smiles were once again were replaced by tears as I followed the stretcher out of the room and watched as he was place into the back of the vehicle.
We made arrangements to meet later that morning to make arrangements. (arrangements to make arrangements, that sounds funny), then Ian left with my Father and there was no further reason for me to stay there. So I guess it was time to go home. I could go home now, because he was gone, I culd have never left with him still there. My mom was still in hiding somewhere in the house, I found her, we said our thank-yous and good-byes and went out to start and scrape off our cars and go to our homes.
