Pop Pop

This is a record of the day my father passed, as best as I can remember.  Written two days later.

My father, known as Pop Pop to my children and grandchildren, passed away at home two days ago, January 31, 2013 at about 12:15 in the afternoon.

He was at home under hospice care.  My mother had been caring for him for 10 weeks.  He'd had a stroke the evening of November 20 and was unable to walk or do much with his hands at that point. He had been diagnosed with Parkinson's many years ago and so it, too, affected the quality of his life.

On January 19 he took a protein shake for breakfast, then told Mom he was tired, and that he didn't want her to give him any more food.  He did not eat after that.  He did take in some water in the 12 days that followed, but not much.

On January 29, I made the decision to come home from work and to spend the rest of the week with Mom (aka "Gee Gee" or "Na Na").  Dad had been steadily going downhill.  He wasn't really able to speak, but he communicated with slight gestures and shaking or nodding his head.  Mom wasn't sleeping very much.  Two and a half hours seemed like a luxury to her.  My daughter had moved herself temporarily into the house to help.

My sister and cousin (from Mom's side of the family) came over almost every day, also.  Mom wasn't left alone, not because we were afraid for her, but we knew she needed company ... someone to talk to, and someone who could help her with Dad's care and the house's care.  She was also worried about my brother, who has MS and has limited mobility.  At one point that day, Dad took in about 3 ounces of water.  Mom used a straw to pull it out of the cup and to drop it into his mouth.

 I finally posted something on the wall about Dad's condition so that my friends and other members of the family would know what was going on, particularly since I would be out from work.

"I've been avoiding posting anything about this, but here goes: My father is in critical condition, suffering from the debilitating effects of Parkinson's disease. He has been bedridden since Nov. 20 when we thought he suffered a stroke, but it was just an effect of the Parkinson's. Hospice care has been involved since Thanksgiving. Mom has been caring for him nonstop at home. On January 19 he stopped eating. He, however, continues to open his eyes and to squeeze your hand if he's awake. This morning the hospice nurse could not find a blood pressure reading on him. I have taken the rest of the week off from work to be with him and mom. Your thoughts and prayers for the family would be greatly appreciated."

I spent Wednesday, January 30, with Mom.  We talked about funeral arrangements. I notified my cousins who are on Facebook with me that Dad was failing.  

Thursday morning, January 31, my daughter called me a little after 7 and said Mom wanted me to come over.  I threw on some clothes and got there before 7:30.  Mom had woken up around 4 a.m. and found Dad unresponsive.  He was breathing very rapidly and very shallowly.  He was running a fever.  She had already called hospice, who promised they would be there as soon as possible.  They were in the middle of a shift change.

Mom decided to call my sister, who would be leaving for work shortly, as well as my younger brother, who was on his way to take his daughter to the school bus then was planning to drive to work.  Mom wanted them to know before they got too far away and had to turn back.

After they got there (along with my brother-in-law), we decided to call both of my other brothers.  My older brother brought his wife and my brother-in-law went and picked up my brother with MS.  The hospice nurse arrived (Denise).  My husband came over.  I tried to notify my other two children that their grandfather was failing via text, but my mother's wi-fi is finicky, so I finally called my son and my older daughter called her sister.  My children's father (my ex-husband) also came over.  I'm sure my daughter had called or texted him.  

Sometime after 10:00 the hospice grief counselor (Chris) and my daughter's pastor (Tim) arrived together. Just before they got in the door, my mom suddenly said, "Something smells different!"  Then I smelled it too.  It was a slight floral smell, one Mom compared to lotion.  My sister smelled it a few seconds later.  Then it disappeared.  There was no rational reason for that smell ... no one had put lotion on nor had they sprayed any spray.  I later told my mother about a friend who'd smelled roses when he had a vision of what he thought was the virgin Mary.  I suggested that perhaps a spiritual guide or comforter had arrived.  She thought perhaps it was Dad leaving his body. 

And so we waited.  Around 11:30 I'd finally become uncomfortable enough with my hygiene that I told Denise that I was going home to shower and change.  She told me not to dawdle. I was back by 11:50.  In the meantime, my son, his wife and my 4 year old granddaughter had arrived. My younger brother's wife and oldest daughter (who had stayed home sick from school) had shown up. 

 I had brought my work computer so that I could check emails while we waited.  I was standing at the corner of the kitchen counter reading an email from a friend at Clearwater High School, getting ready to  paste some info into a data base and talking to the hospice nurse when my mother and sister both yelled, "Denise!  He stopped breathing!"  We both scrambled over to Dad, but I could tell by his coloring he was gone.  Mom was crying, but my sister was sobbing like I've never heard her before.  Denise listened to his heart, then removed the oxygen.  She didn't say anything.  We all began crying.  I made sure to hug all my siblings and my mother.  My son, wife and granddaughter had been sitting at the foot of his bed when he passed. My slightly younger brother was sitting at his side.  I checked on my niece to make sure she was okay, which she was, although she wasn't saying much.  I looked at the clock at about 12:25 and figured Dad had passed around 12:15.

I knew Dad's body would soon become cold, so I lay my head on his chest, then kissed him.  I didn't want to feel him cold.  My daughter hugged him several times.  I don't know what anyone else did.

I called my daughter, who was still at work, and said, "Grandpa is gone. I thought you should know."  She said she'd be there shortly, which she was.  

I was trying to send messages to my cousins when my Mom called my name and indicated to me that my son was in distress.  He was sitting by my father's side, crying so hard that he was hyperventilating. I saw his wife trying to comfort him, but he was having none of it.  Mom tried to get him to go outside for fresh air, but he said, "I'm not leaving his side!"  Mom took a paper bag over to him but he refused it. I walked over and hugged him from the side, then just rubbed his back.  It took a few minutes, but he finally calmed down, although he continued to cry.  He sat there for a long time, just shaking his head.  

Chris, the grief counselor, showed up along with the hospice chaplain.  We had a word of prayer, and Chris made sure to talk to everyone.  My brother in law even spoke to the family (although he almost didn't get it out).  My cousin arrived to grieve with us.

After some time, hospice called the funeral home and they sent out two men to take Dad's body.  They arrived around 2:45.  My husband had just left to pick up the grandkids from school and we'd told him not to bring them until Dad's body had been removed.  We were all surprised when they showed up in a mini-van.  They transferred Dad over to the gurney and asked Mom if she wanted his face covered.  She told them wait until he was out of the house.  They put a quilt over him and my brother in law led them out of the house, holding the door.  Several of us watched from the front bay window as they put him in.  As they pulled away, I reminded them, "That isn't Dad they are taking away.  That's just the shell he was in."

The next thing to deal with was the great-grandchildren. My husband had taken the 4  year old with him to pick up her older brother and sister. I called hubby to tell him it was okay to bring the kids over. After they pulled up, my husband said to them, "I have to tell you something; Pop Pop passed away today."  At which point, the four year old chimed, "He died."  (We weren't sure she understood what was going on).  The older granddaughter started sobbing.  Luckily my sister-in-law was outside so she comforter her while my husband came in and got her mother.  My grandson came in and when he came to me, I hugged him.  I saw my son pick up the four year old and give her a big hug.  When my older granddaughter came in, she came over to me.  I asked her if she knew what happened and she started crying.  "I'm going to miss Pop Pop," she said.  I told her we all were going to miss him.  She was able to calm herself down in a minute.

My son-in-law showed up, and he and my daughter left to get their children.  They would come back after dinner.  My youngest brother and his wife went out and got some food for all of us (chicken, veggie tray, potato salad, etc.)

The hardest child to deal with was my daughter's 6 year old. He was very close to my father, and Dad always said he was Dad's favorite and he didn't care who knew it.  When my daughter told him what had happened, his face crumpled and he said, "I want my Pop Pop."  He told my daughter that maybe they could shock Pop Pop back to life (he'd seen it on TV shows).  He didn't know why, if Pop Pop went to heaven and his body was still on Earth, why wasn't he still in the house.  My daughter, who is a sensitive person anyway, had a real hard time answering his questions.  Mom went in to the front room and talked to him.  We finally got him to come into the back of the house with everyone else.

After a bit, I had to have a break, so I decided to go home and get my husband and change pants as the weather had turned chilly (for us).  First, I swung by Sam's Club and picked up some chicken salad and rolls.  Then I went home, did what I needed to do, then came back.  A few minutes later, I found my 6 year old grandson staring into the mirror in the hallway, his mother lying on the bed in the adjacent room.  I hugged him and said, "You're very sad today, aren't you."  He barely nodded. I added, "You and Mommy are very sad."  He went back into the room and joined his mom. Not long after, he and his older 7 year old cousin climbed into the closet of another room.  I would imagine they were talking it over.

Mom asked me to call Dad's sisters and younger brother, which I did.  She had already called his older brother, but didn't feel she could call the others.  As I told them, "Dad went out on his own terms."  At one point, when I was talking to one of his sisters, I heard the phone being picked up in another room and then heard buttons being pushed.  I told my aunt to hold on, that I thought someone else had picked up.  Then I heard this little evil laugh ... it was my youngest granddaughter, age 2.  She knew she was getting away with something.  We finally got her off the phone, then had a big laugh about it later.

Mom also was able to get in touch with one of Dad's Masonic friends, Tom.  Tom will be doing the Masonic service for Dad.  My daughter's pastor will then do a religious service right afterwards.

The funeral home called and set up an appointment on Friday for Mom to finalize arrangements.  They had purchased plans in 2005.

I finally got home around 9:00 that night.  But I didn't fall asleep until after midnight.  At 12:10 a.m. I looked at the clock and told myself, "It's no longer the day Dad died.  I can go to sleep."  And I did.