Circle of Life, My Ass. That's My *Father* Dying On That Bed...
So we went back over to the hospice, and his breathing had changed. There were longer intervals between breaths, so we sat down and waited. We talked to him, told him that it was OK for him to go, to rest: his body was working really hard, which was hard to watch. My mom kept saying how much she loved him: she laid her head on the pillow next to him and looked at him with such love that it alone made me weep. My mom was on his left side, and I was holding his left hand. Steve was holding his right hand, and Teresa was next to him.
Over time, his breathing slowed and slowed. When I started counting the time between breaths, it was at ab out fifteen seconds. When it got to about twenty-five, it started to be hard to tell whether any given breath was his last. Finally, I noticed I could see the pulse in his neck.As the pause between breaths became longer, I started watching the pulse, looking to see if he was going to breathe again.
Finally, he took a final breath. Mum looked at me after a little while, and I said I could still see the pulse. It slowed, became fainter, until I couldn't see it any more.
Now, it has been the Bear's habit, when he noticed that the time was 4:44 or 8 minutes past 8, he thought it was his father sending a message from the afterlife. "Yes," my mother would say, but it does that twice a day. "True, but why did I look at it right then?" So when we got back to the place, Steve pointed out that he left us at 9:09 p.m. on the 9th of January of 2011. Or to put it another way, 9:09 9/1/11.
Good forthfaring, my father.
Over time, his breathing slowed and slowed. When I started counting the time between breaths, it was at ab out fifteen seconds. When it got to about twenty-five, it started to be hard to tell whether any given breath was his last. Finally, I noticed I could see the pulse in his neck.As the pause between breaths became longer, I started watching the pulse, looking to see if he was going to breathe again.
Finally, he took a final breath. Mum looked at me after a little while, and I said I could still see the pulse. It slowed, became fainter, until I couldn't see it any more.
Now, it has been the Bear's habit, when he noticed that the time was 4:44 or 8 minutes past 8, he thought it was his father sending a message from the afterlife. "Yes," my mother would say, but it does that twice a day. "True, but why did I look at it right then?" So when we got back to the place, Steve pointed out that he left us at 9:09 p.m. on the 9th of January of 2011. Or to put it another way, 9:09 9/1/11.
Good forthfaring, my father.