The fruit of the flower

I got the call today at 1:14 p.m.  Beth found my father in the garage, his heart had stopped beating.  "Your father is being air lifted to the medical center.  They revived him, he has a very weak pulse, but he has a pulse".  

Oh, how I long to feel that pulse just one more day.

Everything else today, all the puttering about, noise making, chattering, all has become still, quiet, bathed in tears.  I set it all aside, like a stack of books I will someday read.  Nothing loses its importance, the necessities are answered but with a peaceful stillness as I wait.  

The phone just rang.... 

My father's heart is still beating, but he is non-responsive.  I think he slipped away and was free some where around 12:45 today in his garage.  When they found him, HE was gone.  They think he had laid there for maybe 20 minutes.  They used their incredible machines to get his heart beating again and kept his body alive.  He doesn't like hospitals, he loved his garage. We didn't want them to keep him going for us, we wanted to let him go, he would have wanted it that way, not hooked up to machines...

 He had wanted to be busy, it had just snowed, so he was shoveling snow.  He knew what he was doing and he would have told us, "Don't tell me what to do, damn it".  He was scheduled for another liver cancer treatment on Wednesday, the thought of it was stealing his sleep.  He was taking 30 pills a day and felt the weight of all of his ailments; diabetes, emphysema, COPD, arteriosclerosis, and intense leg cramps, liver cancer.... 

We had the most beautiful, loving, deep conversation last night, he in Colorado, me here, in New England.  I was sewing, he was listening to Beth vacuum the floor in the sun room.  He was wondering what he was going to have for dinner.  We talked about fear, about death, about life, my childhood, his fatherhood, we talked about cancer, about sleepless nights, counting sheep and cherishing moments together.  He told me he reads my blog, that he liked the pictures of my life.  He and I have had our tough row to hoe, but we always come back again.  We always reach out for each other, he loves me, 

I love him...

Last night was a rejoining, a sweet good-bye.  It could not have been more fortuitous, more welcomed, more wonderful and now, in the light of this sad turn of events, more magical.  What a cherished gift it is to be loved by you dad, thank you.

It is 5:17 p.m., Beth just called me from the hospital, they are removing the life support.  

He has been gone for hours and he would have wanted it that way.  

I love you dad, sleep well, I'll be looking for ya.