Even With Few Words, Dad & I Could Still Communicate

In Dad's last year, "yes", "no", "ok", or "alright" were his primary words. Sentences were still possible, but very rare. Sometimes, Dad spoke gibberish words and phrases. Sometimes, "yes" meant "no". Sometimes, "no" meant "yes". When he strung a few words together, that was a special treat and blessing. I smiled and rejoiced every time.

I have no doubt that the Lord untied his tongue and freed him to bless me with a few beautiful words just when I needed the blessing. When he was tired of sitting around the house, he would say "let's go." Often, I would grab the keys and say "ok". I didn't matter where we went. A drive to the farm or to town to run an errand usually met the need of the hour. He could be honest when asked something and simply say "I don't know". When asked if his coffee was good, he could say "it sure is". When asked how he was feeling, he would usually say "I feel OK", and for the most part, because of his overall good physical health, that was true too. When told "I love you, Dad", he would always reply "I love you too." My goodness, I needed to hear those words and never got tired of them. And yes, I miss hearing those words.

Even when he spoke gibberish, I told him I understood. Somehow I did. God be praised!

Father's Day, 2018

It's Dad's Day, but my Dad's not here. After 51+ years, it's a strange feeling, not sadness or emptiness or merely reminiscent of years past; it's just different.

And yet, I am reminded of that fifth of the "10 commandments", "Honor your father and mother...." (Ex 20:12) which was also re-affirmed by our Lord (Matt 15:4). For those of you who still have one or both of your parents in this world, I pray that your honor is not limited to one day, but is a lifetime of blessing your parents, and thanking God for the gift they are.

Happy Father's Day!

Hospice Care

Access to hospice care has significantly changed and improved in our community since Mama's cancer illness 23 years ago. Back then, the closest hospice agency was 90 miles away in Macon or Savannah, but an office in Macon took her case and helped us by contracting some in-home services with local nursing agencies, and hospice staff visited our home by commuting from either Macon or Dublin. They were dedicated and effective. Mama spent her final two months at home in peaceful dignity where she wanted to be.

By late 2017, our family realized Dad needed hospice help too, but now, our community has multiple agencies, including an in-patient facility for families who need or prefer that level of care. As Dad became less functional and needed more oversight and help for everything, I began to have doubts that he could stay and finish his life at home, but that changed when he developed a problem hernia. After trips to the ER, and consultations with his primary care doctor and a surgeon, Dad was not a candidate for surgery, and in-home hospice care would help us meet his needs and keep him comfortable.

Dad's doctor made the referral to Solace Hospice. And immediately, they contacted us and began the process to admit Dad into their care. We received in-home visits from the administrator, RN, case worker, and chaplain. Hospice met Dad's and our needs. The RN began on a twice weekly schedule, but when Dad suddenly declined and began his sleep week, the RN attended to him once or twice daily and was on-call and willing to visit for whatever we needed. When Dad left us, Dad's nurse arrived within 30 minutes after my late-evening call to help us take the next step to arrange funeral services.

All of this allowed Dad to finish at home, where he wanted to be, and to finish well and with dignity. Some families may prefer or need the in-patient facility to best serve their needs, and that is fine. But at-home care is possible too.

For me, hospice care was a breath of fresh air. We averted the nursing home, and I know Dad wanted that more than anything. But we did need professional help for Dad's bathing, medical check-ups, and managing his hernia/pain situation. When we needed a wheel chair, a bed, medicine, or basic supplies, all of it was provided immediately.

Whatever your family situation, hospice is not a death sentence. It enhances end-of-life care and promotes the dignity of human life. I encourage you to take advantage of the potential benefits to your loved one and your family.

Thinking About Dad's Departure

When you are a caregiver, you are immersed in a season of life that is an amazing blessing, but it is all-consuming. It is difficult to think too much about the future or to plan ahead. Each day was enough of a challenge in itself to dream about days far in the future, but I did occasionally think about Dad's departure and what the next season of my life would bring.

I thought about the grief of his departure. My buddy and my "boy" would move on to the next world. I knew I would miss him, and I do.

I thought about the relief of his departure. Dad would no longer be trapped inside. He had a lifetime of knowledge and experiences, but could no longer apply the knowledge nor act on the lessons of experience. His departure would free him from that condition, and I am happy that he's free.

I thought about the change of seasons that his departure would bring for me. The four years with Dad were a season of my life appointed by God as a gift to me. I have no doubt about that. One of the great blessings of this world is to love and honor our parents, through every stage of life. I knew a new season would come, but I had no idea what it would look like, what I do next, or how the Lord would choose to use me. I still don't know, and that's OK. It's good and right to wait upon the Lord.

It's been good to re-connect with people again, to begin building relationships that went dormant for awhile. It's been good to have a reinvigorated prayer life. It's been good to transition back from a devotional Bible study life to a verse-by-verse study of Scripture. It's been good to start reading books again.

Dementia has a strange way of spreading and affecting the mind of the caregiver too. I felt it. I sensed the loss of mental sharpness, but I think and hope my effects will be temporary and fade over time. Yet, my next season of life is not clear right now. Again, that's OK. The Lord knows what He's doing. He will reveal it to me when He's finished whatever work He's doing in me right now. I learned to say "No." I have been reminded that saying "No" is the right thing to say, because I'm just like most people and too prone to let "good" things get in the way of God's best things.

Next season of life, here I come. I'll know it when I see it. But glimpses of it are coming into view.  :)

When The Lord Calls & Dad Leaves Us

I started thinking about that years ago, the how, the way, the when, what it might be like during and after, etc. Were we doing the things we needed to do to help Dad to the finish line? Had Dad taken care of the spiritual, physical, and financial matters that should be handled early on as a good steward? At the end of his life down here, nothing happened as I had imagined, not the how, not the when, not the where, not the ease with which he would make his trip home. The "how" was by way of sleep and fatigue, not illness or organ failure. The "when" came a year or more early based on the natural decline of a dementia patient, barring an intervening medical calamity. The "where" was home, and Dad wanted that more than anything, but I had begun to have my doubts that we would make it. The "ease" was just that, no pain, no sickness, no distress, no struggle. I've never witnessed a homegoing so pleasant and peaceful.

When the Lord came, we cried, we grieved, we hurt, but we also prayed, celebrated, gave thanks, and received our extended family and friends to share in our joys and sorrows. In the weeks thereafter, I have reminisced alot about Daddy with family and friends, and even though I have always loved and appreciated him, I have raised my opinion of him even more. It helps to be quiet and think through the facts of a situation or person and then draw better informed conclusions. He trusted the Lord (most important of all). He attempted one of the most sacrificial, redemptive works I have ever known. He gave away, spent, or otherwise disposed of just about every material asset he had in the last 10 years of his life. He was a good steward. He left instructions for his final days (what a huge relief for us!). He left us with no doubt about his wishes for a simple memorial and burial. He left instructions for a few last material possessions that remained after his passing.

As for the three of us, we did our best, based on what we thought was right at the time, always willing to learn and make adjustments along the way when we realized that what we were doing needed to be tweaked. We did not force Daddy to conform to us. We allowed Dad to be Dad, and adapted as appropriate. It was not easy at all. And at the end, death never is. It hurts. It reminds us that we were never meant for a grave and a tombstone. That's why the gospel of Christ is such good news.

Dad's age and health situation was very different from Mama's cancer illness and passing 23 years ago, but God was very good to him and to us. Dad was blessed, and so were we.