Here I am, down in Indiana with mom and dad, hoping to offer some comfort and cheer. Hoping to make the burden a bit lighter, if that's possible. Hoping that the simplicity of my presence might help them breathe easier, sleep harder, and forget some of the difficulties the big "C" brings day after day after day.
I knew as I was driving that dad would look different than the last time I saw him; he can no longer turn his head, he lies exclusively in his hospice bed, and he just today received a catheter. Small movements bring great pain. And so I ever-so-lightly kiss the top of his bare head. And he says one of his favorite phrases:
"'Preciate it." It is all he can do.
I comment on his fuzzy chin, and he offers to shave. With a smile, I tell him it doesn't matter, not at all. He is fine just the way he is. And within moments he is asleep again.
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The hospice literature tells us that in the last few months of a person's life, they begin to pull inward. They will stop keeping up with the television news, they will seldom be in the mood for a visit, they will doze off for most of the day.
And so I realize that every effort dad makes to interact with a child or grandchild, with a well-meaning parishioner, with a brother, with a friend, with a man he led to Christ, are precious gifts to us. They do not come naturally; they occur only because of intense effort on his part.
In the last few weeks, the visitors have been virtually non-stop--and don't get me wrong, I'm most grateful.
Still, it occurs to me how sad it is to wait to make these moments until the end of a person's life. Now I look back on my times with dad with fresh gratefulness; some days I regret I didn't drive to see him more often, that I didn't live closer the last few years, etc.
But mostly I learned from him to express my appreciation and love to others. As he showered affection on my sisters and I, I felt free to express my love to him, often and repeatedly. It was his way. It is perhaps the greatest gift he has given us. And in return we loved to give it back to him with our own expressions of fondness.
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And so, this week, I felt an urge to gather those I care about close to me. I wanted to tell them I enjoy their company; to tell them I admire their fortitude, wisdom, and compassion; to tell them that I treasure time spent in their presence. And that I hope our friendships and family relationships continue to thrive and grow.
If you read this entry, will you do me a favor? Will you call your mom or dad today and remind them that you're glad they are your parents? Or if you're not quite there in your relationship, will you reach out to them in some way, to let them know you're there, and that you do care. These people who have given us life, and nurtured our growth, and put up with our personality quirks, and accept us anyway are amazing.
Perhaps your parents are gone, or estranged for some reason, and you have already walked this journey of saying goodbye or parting ways for some reason. But I believe in my heart that there is someone in your life whom you value. We hesitate to give too much of ourselves emotionally for so many reasons; but self-protectiveness does not bring life. It does not lead to real living. It's just existing.
And you want more. And you should. If by any chance this entry prompts you to move towards someone in your life, will you let me know?
Peace,
Suzie
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