Helping Dad Let Go

Dad is no longer eating regularly. I've talked hospice into discontinuing all but the "comfort medications." He is forgetting how to swallow. I go over to feed him after work, but if he rejects food, I do not push. Nor do the caregivers. Today he had very little and all he had for supper was a glass of cranberry juice. I want what is best for him. And what is best for him is a quick passing.

I spoke with a girlfriend of mine last night who said she had had an aunt who was fighting and hanging on to life. Once she was given permission to die and was told everyone would be alright and take care of each other, she died within ten minutes. She was in a coma when my friend had given her permission. But once she got the words, she let go. She suggested I do that with Dad.

So tonight after I got the juice in him, I waited for the right moment. I decided there never would be a perfect moment; just go ahead. Even though there are always people around, I just had to let go of how this might sound to others. I said, "Daddy, if you would like, you can go and be with Momma and Cindy. I'm sure they are looking forward to seeing you. It's going to be a great reunion for you. I know you haven't seen Momma in years. You don't have to worry about me. I'm going to be OK. Amy is going to be OK. Johnny is going to be OK. I just want you to be happy and let go. You don't have to struggle to live anymore. Just relax and let go." Dad was more alert than usual, but he still didn't appear to comprehend a word I was saying. That's perfectly fine. If he picked up on any part of the message, it might help him to stop fighting. Dad believes in an afterlife and a heaven where one is reunited with their loved ones. I do not, but this is about him, not me. It's about whatever he needs in order to let go. This image will hopefully take some of the scariness out of dying.

We watched about thirty minutes of Casa Blanca, then I got up to leave. I told him, "I'll see you, and you think about what I said."