So – my dad passed away at the start of this year. Each time I text someone to say that he’s died, my thumb hovers for a moment above the ‘p’ in passed away.
Although it feels weird to write it, it’s less so to say it. Probably because as soon as it happened, I made myself jokingly say, “Be nice to me. My dad just died.” It took the edge off.
Dad didn’t die suddenly. He was elderly and a hospice patient, so we were all expecting it. My dad had his last dialysis treatment in July 2023. All the medical people gave him two weeks.
Family came to visit. He talked to those he wanted to and slept through the visits he didn’t want to deal with. Two weeks became a month. Eventually those visits dried up. Summer turned into fall, and fall into winter. Dad continued to baffle the hospice nurses and medical staff. No one had ever seen anyone stop dialysis and continue living for six months.
How he stuck around is a whole other thing. It wasn’t easy to watch him dwindle, witness how his body shrank as the days passed.
And then he died. And we were ready for it. People tell me how sorry they are and I appreciate their sentiments but honestly – all I feel is relief. Grateful he didn’t linger, hovering in half-life the way he was at the end.
My sister and I have decided not to give his clothes away. We’ll just wear his things when we sleep over at mom’s house. His room looks the same. But doesn’t. He’s not lying in the bed, his knobby knees making the tiniest bumps under the layers of blankets.
My thoughts about dad are random and strange. I wonder if others who’ve lost a loved one have thoughts like these. (I hope so because there is a human need not be singular in this way of thinking.)
I wonder what’s happening to his body. How long it’ll take to disappear. I shove the thought away but it keeps coming back.
Focus on something else.
I cut my nails a few nights ago. I regarded the nail clippings and thought, “This is the first time I’ve trimmed my nails since dad died.”
This is the first time I’ve cut my hair since dad died.
This is the first time I’ve cooked anything since dad died.
This is the first time I’ve watched a video of dad since he died.
This is the first time I’m belly laughing since dad died.
This is the first time I’ve cried since dad died.
Last Friday, my sister finally flew back home. She was the last of the non-local support group to leave. The same day my brother whisked mom away to his house an hour away for the weekend.
No one left here but me – and dad.
And for the first time I really missed him.
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Lisi,
All I can say – I wish I could hug you
I am always here for you if you need an ear …. or a hug
I love you very much
So, I just read “The first Time” and it was beautiful. 💙
My first thought was, you were also invited to spend the weekend with us, and you did not need to be alone.
However, my second thought was, you had to be alone at some time to process your grief. You needed the time to think about all those first times, and in the process, think about Dad, and think about moving on.
Your story shows me that though you are moving on, you are taking the memory of Dad with you. 💙
😢♥️. I also trimmed my nails a few days ago – and remembered seeing dad last year while he was still mobile, sitting on the lanai swing with his foot on the little footstool trimming his toenails. “Dad” I said, “ how you managing to do that by yourself?”
“Me nah have to try?” he replied. “Who gon do it fu me if me don’t try?”