"what does one say to life?"
my father passed away monday (5/5/08) morning, at 11:30am at nieghborhood hospice in chester county. he was first diagnosed with stage 3b lung cancer back in october 2007, only caught after discovering blood clots in his legs. I learned of this news the next monday, for my parents only wanted me to have a carefree birthday party that weekend.
the cancer had spread from one lung to the other, up his neck, and into his lymph nodes. the tumor was causing blood clots, so we had him on chemo and blood thinners. the cancer was too widespread to perform surgical removal or radiation. there are 3 types of blood thinners, and as of roughly 2 weeks ago, we learned the strongest was failing to work. he suffered 2 strokes, shortly after which the doctors claimed they had done all they could do, and it was time to call in the family. we had him moved to the hospice center where he stayed.
during his short time in the hospice, my dad iterated some pretty odd things. some things that made us laugh, others that scared us into believing it would soon be it. the currents were chasing him, fists calling from behind locked doors, all the while he stood on patrol as sergeant of caln township. "sign off," he'd say, wishing for us to leave. "say goodbye." I wished him a good night, and I was overjoyed to hear the words echo from his lips .. though unwittingly. my last hug from him came on an equally special night, where he reached around my back and tucked his fingers into my back pocket. the last night I spent with him my mom and I were teasing him - "he's smiling" "nah," I corrected, "a smile's more like this-" as I gently placed his lips into a smile. "ridiculous," he uttered, and in reply I argued, "what's that? I am not! I love you daddy!" "ridiculous," he repeated, and I knew it was because I was messing with him, something we always had in common.
with the knowledge that my father had been taken off treatment and was moved to hospice, the process of mourning has done most of its works with me. the most stress came from the uncertainty of just when the time would be. I can't be sure in saying I would have been more comfortable if I were present when he did go .. though I have a feeling I might have. that doesn't matter now - the past is written and there's nothing I can do to change it - this is the principle I must force upon myself to keep myself sane from the tempting regrets such as, "I wish .. I should have .. why did I .." nonetheless, there is no escaping these terrors, especially as a disrespectful teenager. what I've got to hold on to is the happiness in knowing that my father is free from all pain he suffered here - which appeared to be present in his last days, due to multiple seizures. where is my father now? sailing the golden-spattered rolling seas on some cruise, enjoying some closer than ice-row seats at playoff hockey games, waiting atop kingda ka for me to meet him there at the instant I witness the curvature of the earth, patrolling in his cop car to keep me safe. he is everywhere he wants to be.
my friends have rushed to my aid, and it is overwhelming how much support I've received, and from forgotten and unknown places. prayers, rosary services, hugs, and wishes - I appreciate everything that has been offered in the name of my father and my family. all I can say is thank you .. a phrase which has already worn out its worth on my mouth, and I feel it's simply not enough to express my gratitude for all this support that I deeply appreciate.
you can read my father's obituary here.
the cancer had spread from one lung to the other, up his neck, and into his lymph nodes. the tumor was causing blood clots, so we had him on chemo and blood thinners. the cancer was too widespread to perform surgical removal or radiation. there are 3 types of blood thinners, and as of roughly 2 weeks ago, we learned the strongest was failing to work. he suffered 2 strokes, shortly after which the doctors claimed they had done all they could do, and it was time to call in the family. we had him moved to the hospice center where he stayed.
during his short time in the hospice, my dad iterated some pretty odd things. some things that made us laugh, others that scared us into believing it would soon be it. the currents were chasing him, fists calling from behind locked doors, all the while he stood on patrol as sergeant of caln township. "sign off," he'd say, wishing for us to leave. "say goodbye." I wished him a good night, and I was overjoyed to hear the words echo from his lips .. though unwittingly. my last hug from him came on an equally special night, where he reached around my back and tucked his fingers into my back pocket. the last night I spent with him my mom and I were teasing him - "he's smiling" "nah," I corrected, "a smile's more like this-" as I gently placed his lips into a smile. "ridiculous," he uttered, and in reply I argued, "what's that? I am not! I love you daddy!" "ridiculous," he repeated, and I knew it was because I was messing with him, something we always had in common.
with the knowledge that my father had been taken off treatment and was moved to hospice, the process of mourning has done most of its works with me. the most stress came from the uncertainty of just when the time would be. I can't be sure in saying I would have been more comfortable if I were present when he did go .. though I have a feeling I might have. that doesn't matter now - the past is written and there's nothing I can do to change it - this is the principle I must force upon myself to keep myself sane from the tempting regrets such as, "I wish .. I should have .. why did I .." nonetheless, there is no escaping these terrors, especially as a disrespectful teenager. what I've got to hold on to is the happiness in knowing that my father is free from all pain he suffered here - which appeared to be present in his last days, due to multiple seizures. where is my father now? sailing the golden-spattered rolling seas on some cruise, enjoying some closer than ice-row seats at playoff hockey games, waiting atop kingda ka for me to meet him there at the instant I witness the curvature of the earth, patrolling in his cop car to keep me safe. he is everywhere he wants to be.
my friends have rushed to my aid, and it is overwhelming how much support I've received, and from forgotten and unknown places. prayers, rosary services, hugs, and wishes - I appreciate everything that has been offered in the name of my father and my family. all I can say is thank you .. a phrase which has already worn out its worth on my mouth, and I feel it's simply not enough to express my gratitude for all this support that I deeply appreciate.
you can read my father's obituary here.