The evening that my dad passed away, I vividly remember the phone conversations with my mother. She called and said she had gone into check on him and couldn't wake him up. She explained she had called paramedics, and then when we spoke just minutes later, she told me he was gone. I remember asking what happened and she had replied she didn't know if it was a stroke or some event like that. I vividly remember her making the comment over the next several days that she was grateful it didn't appear to be a traumatic event. In my mind, this meant he had fallen asleep and simply didn't wake up.
I learned this weekend that wasn't exactly how things happened. It wasn't that my mom had attempted to keep it from me, it was just a miscommunication. It turns out he was up and about and was walking into the bathroom when he called out to her. She was on the phone, but ended her conversation so she could go check on him. Now we know that he was already gone by then, but the paramedics did make some attempts to revive him. There was nothing they could do, and honestly reviving him would've only extended his suffering and delayed the inevitable.
Even though it's been 18 months since Dad passed, this news is hard for me. I had this vision that he had simply closed his eyes, whatever event happened while he was asleep, and he simply never woke up. I think anyone could understand what a comfort that was for me...isn't that the way most of us hope to go? Knowing that he cried out to my mother, and that there was a moment of suffering, regardless of how brief, makes me sad all over again. I know it doesn't really change anything, but I'm having a tough time accepting this.
I think ultimately, it just goes to show my emotional reserve it pretty low. Dealing with ailing parents, and then battling with challenging teens who push you to the brink of your wits end on almost a daily basis can really take a toll on a person. At the same time, I'm very, very grateful for my faith that gets me through each and every day!
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