I sit quietly in the sterile ICU, watching over him. His shallow breathing and the annoying beep of the monitor is all that seems to permeate my senses. The curtain moves as the squeaky tennis shoes show themselves. “I just need to see how he’s doing.” The kind, soft-spoken, nurse, touched my shoulder, as if to tell me these are his last hours. I suppose she is trying to comfort me; to tell me in a nonverbal sort of way, you need to say goodbye. I wasn’t ready to let go.
“He was just fine yesterday” as I silently talk to myself. He was laughing and telling jokes like he always did. It was just routine he said.
I covered up his frail almost lifeless body with the heated blankets. But the cold still crept in. I knew the pathways to the heart were narrowing; The roadways to life were no longer flowing freely. The spark of life was dimming.
I want to cry, but if I do, he’ll know it is the end. My heart tells me he already knows. He grabs my hand gently and whispers, I love you. Kim, I don’t think I am going to make it; I can’t accept that. “You’ll be fine, just rest.” I can’t agree with him even though I know, I think I know, that this could be his final hour. If I give in, then he will really be gone. I have to give him hope; I have to encourage him to keep living, I have to be positive, happy, and smile. Don’t I?
He was crying and squeezing my hand with the little strength he had left. The squeaky sound was getting louder as it entered the room. “Visiting hours are over.” WHAT?? You are making me leave? Not now!!. “We’ll call you if anything changes.”
5:13 a.m, February 8th, I woke startled. I must have cried myself to sleep. The phone buzzed and the soft voice on the other end said, you need to come quickly, He has gone into cardiac arrest. The realization that he wasn’t going to live hit me so hard, I could barely see to drive from the tears that wouldn’t stop. I just kept praying that I would make it there in time.
I ran down the corridor hoping that I would make it in time to say goodbye. I couldn’t say goodbye last night. Why? I asked myself. I could have told him so many things.
I pulled back the curtain. I thought he was gone. There didn’t seem to be any life left in him. I sobbed as I kissed him. I told him how much I loved him. Five minutes later, like the last breath of a single flame, my Father was gone. “He waited for you.” The gentle voice added.
I lost the love of my life 8 months after that and my step father 5 months later.
We will never know when our last breath will be or when that special someone will no longer be a part of our life. So I continue to listen to my father and live my life everyday; Me, Myself, and I. And you know what? We are having a great time!!
We can take situations like these and drown in self-pity and sorrow, or we can pick ourselves up and keep moving. I chose to keep moving and so can you.
Sometimes letting go of the hurt and pain isn’t the hardest, it is the starting over .So don’t look at where you are as the end; look at it as a new beginning:)
Have faith, that God is guiding you every step of the way.
Keep hiking to the top!
I felt my father very strongly today:) I needed to share:)