Cleared for take-off on his final flight...

My Dad died this afternoon, about 4:30 or a little after that. He didn't have the anxious struggle that Mum had, his transition was quite graceful and peaceful. His last few hours reminded me so much of his father's last few hours, that I'd been privileged to share back in July of 1980.

 

I was with Dad almost to the end. I had been there in the morning, then went back at about 2 p.m. Sometime after 3, they moved us to the "Compassionate Room" where we could have privacy (Dad was in a shared room, as nearly all the residents are.) Although the nurse had brought me toast and milk, I was feeling that I needed food to keep my blood sugar up, and it seemed as though Dad might hang on for some time yet, so although I wasn't sure he was aware of my presence, I told him I was going to get something to eat and would be back soon. I had just settled at home with some cheese when the phone rang. When I heard the Charge Nurse's voice, I asked, "Do I need to come back right away?" and she said gently, "He's already gone". It seems that he waited until I'd left -- protecting his little girl right to the end (and making sure I wouldn't have to be out after dark). I wish I'd been with him -- but I recently was reassuring a friend whose mother was upset that she hadn't been with her husband when he died, and I said, sometimes it's the person's choice, and they somehow hang on until their loved one is out of the room before they die. Now I have to reassure myself with my own words. The Charge Nurse was with him, holding his hand. When I thanked her, she said she needed to thank me for entrusting the care of my Dad to them, because they felt privileged to have cared for him.

 

Now he's flying free.