When There Is Only Love

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When Nothing Is Left

It seems like nothing is left when those you love are gone.

After a death of a loved one, you're particularly clumsy and awkward as if you've acquired a unique ability to trip over any and everything.

When my father died, I would often hear a mantra echoing in my mind, telling me to "just hold on..." as I stumbled through my life. But I didn't know what I was supposed to be holding on to.

And Then I Remembered

There really is nothing to hold on to.

In the end, there is only Love.

And even that, you don't hold on to it. You just "be."

 

iconic image by Robert Indiana, 1960s

 

A Day To Be Dying

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What A Day

Today is the day our loved one is dying? “No. Not today. No to death.”

At the cellular level of our bodies, of all organic matter, we are programmed to survive. Programmed to fight death with all we’ve got.

However.

A Final Performance Awaits

Each one of us has been issued a ticket to a last performance.

The very moment we are born, a death sentence is also handed out. It's as if a personal engraved invitation to the event is created, but we can't find the date and time on it.

No matter.

The date and time will find us.

Steve Jobs offered this quote:

 
“If you live each day as if it were your last,
someday you’ll most certainly be right.”
 

Facing Death At The Hospital

It's one thing to say these words and quite another to live them.

The hospital called when my father was admitted. I figured it was just another "tune-up" admission. He'll be admitted for a few days and then sent back home.

This time, however, the doctor insisted I should come. I asked if my father were dying. She skirted around those words and would only say that it was serious. "You should come."

I hastily booked a plane ticket.

Get Back, Death

As much as I tried to defy and force back the hovering clouds of Death waiting to lift our dad away from us, I had no personal power to alter the upcoming event.

My father's heart and kidneys were failing. He was, without question, in a dying process; no other options remained.

My failed attempts to battle and then to bargain with Death brought home the realization of just how small I really was.

Holding A Vigil

With my father in his hospital bed, the family came to visit. We talked.

We recounted stories about the "good old days" and our many adventures together. He was completely past-oriented. When I mentioned something I was going to do in the future, he scarcely heard me. He would pause with a far off look in his eye and immediately return to past events.

Although he didn't eat much, we ordered a few special food requests.

We were blessed to have him for one more week; many people were able to say goodbye.

In the time we still had, it was a good day.

Only Love Remains

My father remained entirely lucid to his last moments. He knew he was dying and accepted this fact with unbelievable equanimity. His calm ability to face the upcoming event took my breath away. His steadiness inspired awe in all who came to see him.

Fully aware his death was coming, he simply asked to not be “hurried along,” then he would add that he didn't want to be a burden either. I did everything in my power to honor his request to not rush the process.

In those last days, with heart-aching wonder, my dad spoke of love like he never had before; how important it is and how essential to tell others that you love them. He worried he had not said it enough.

"Don't worry," we told him, "we knew."

We always knew.

No Matter The Day

Each day I drove to the hospital to see him, I wondered if that very day would be *the* day of his last breath. I constantly reminded myself that this was a part of life even though it gave me little comfort.

Thus, it will be for all of us. I wonder if I'll manage to be even half as brave as my father when that final, dying moment comes.

But, no matter. When that moment comes, it will be my day. When that moment comes for you, it will be your day. All our days will be held in one final breath. 

* * * * *
My dad's favorite dog, German Shorthaired Pointer
The Dying Lion of Lucerne, Switzerland

 

 

Rest In Peace Or Dancing With The Stars

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Rest In Peace

R.I.P. – Requiescat in pace

 
“Rest in Peace – Latin: Requiescat in pace
... is a short epitaph or idiomatic expression wishing eternal rest and peace to someone who has died.”
 

Something we say when someone dies, but is this really what we want for them?

I understand what we mean – we wish for them to not have regrets, to not be tormented by difficulties and darkness, to be free of struggles.

However, maybe we shouldn't rest. Maybe it's time to do just the opposite.

Do Not Go Gentle Into That Starry Sky

With a bow to Dylan Thomas in his poem Do Not Go Gentle into That Good Night, I'd like to say, don't rest in peace. Do not go gentle into that starry sky.

Live it up.

Hoot and holler. 

Fly, be free. Soar into the cosmos with your heart leading the way.

It's time to kick up your heels now that the burden of this physical form is lifted.

The Journey Of Aging

I said goodbye to my dad in May of 2012.

He died of "natural causes" – an aging body with a heart that failed to beat one more time.

Dad on ice skates in his youth

His youthful body was handsome, strong and healthy. He was naturally athletic – snow and water skiing came easily to him in his youth. He was a member of a ski and figure skating club. 

He knew the difference between the inside and outside edge of a blade and bemoaned the elimination of compulsory figures in the ice skating competitions.

A gifted dancer, my mother and he won more than one dance contest. He was also a fly fisherman, one of the inspired ones who tie their own flies.

That vibrant physical form had been exchanged for a stooped and frail one.

We said our farewells to him as his 89 year old body succumbed to respiratory and congestive heart failure and kidney failure.

A natural cycle of life, they say.

He suffered the aches and pains of aging and its limitations of movement with great patience and little complaint. In his last year, he required continuous oxygen. The oxygen generator in the house was noisy, the tank he had to carry when he went out was bulky and awkward. He didn't like lugging it around. All because of the heinous asbestos he was exposed to at his job. 

He worked hard all his years, always bringing home the paycheck and taking good care of his family. As a GS civilian in the naval shipyard, he fully earned his government retirement. He was an engineer for the life-support systems on nuclear submarines and would go to sea to perform ship checks. 

By the time we became aware that the nastiness of asbestos was to blame for his damaged lungs, it was far too late to do anything about it or to get compensation. Many have paid this exorbitant price in silence.

Rest In Peace – What Do We Know

I was with him in the hospital as he lifted out of his physical form.

I couldn't see the road in front of him.

You'd think that being right there, I would have a glimpse of something beyond. As if I should be afforded a peek past the partially opened door.

It didn't work that way.

I mentioned to my dad, as the time of his departure drew near, that I'd like to get an email from him from the other side. Our eyes met and we paused. We grinned at each other just at the thought of it.

To tell the truth, I was only slightly kidding. An email any day now would be great.

Dancing With The Stars

He took his last breath.

His heart willed one last beat.

A moment of complete stillness.

Almost a sound, but not a physical sound, and his spirit lifted up and away.

Fast.

Faster than anything we can imagine.

Did I perceive a final goodbye, even a thank you?

Imperceptible. At the edge of awareness.

Slowly, the heat in his body began to dissipate, the fire within his cells became tiny embers and then disappeared until no warmth was left.

Where To Now?

I imagine he must have felt a lightening of his load. The shackles of gravity were broken, the oxygen tank tossed aside. He was free now.

They say we are star stuff.

We come from the stars. The molecular bits that make up our bodies also make up the stars. In a sense, we are fiery stars.

I don't think my dad is resting. I like to think he is laughing and dancing with the stars.

 

Blended Families, Blessings And Difficulties

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What Makes A Blended Family

Blended families – products of divorce, sometimes of widows or widowers – blend step-everything together. Step-siblings, step-moms, step-dads, step-children as well as step-grandparents.

I have always maintained that the people we're born with do not a family make, but rather love and time. Especially time that crosses the years. It's not genes and DNA that bind us, but love.

I remember my nephew when he was a baby and as he grew into a sweet little boy. Even now when I look at him as a grown man of 40 years, I still see that child in the shadows. We have this same feeling for our children.

Adding New Members To The Family

With blended families, as new members are added, these step-relatives can also become the main relatives. When a step-member in the family plays a big role in our lives, it's important to emphasize that it's okay to love everyone.

It can be quite the process to allow our love to bloom naturally. Resentments and insecurities are common among other family members. It's hard to let our hearts open wide, to love without boundaries. 

When divorce is involved, it's easy to have anger and hard feelings. When a death is involved, it might feel impossible to step in for the departed family member. It's difficult to compete with a ghost and it should be avoided.

Loving a step-parent doesn't negate or diminish the love for the biological parent. There's enough room for all of us. It's helpful to verbalize this and said it out loud to everyone. Ideally, it should be reaffirmed many times.

Blended Families: Changing "Step" To "Bonus"

For the release of the 1998 movie, Stepmom, actresses Julia Roberts and Susan Sarandon, had an interview together. They talked about the word "step" and that it can tend to have negativity attached to it. They thought the word "bonus" would be a great substitute.

Instead of a "step-mom," we could have a "bonus mom." It may seem silly to change the words, but it's worth exploring its potential to express these relationships in a more positive light.

Blessings And Difficulties Of Blended Families

In our modern, blended families, it is often wonderful when we have bonus moms and dads. Our lives are enriched with their presence and guidance.

There is another side of the coin, however – when we face the difficulty of grieving the loss of a father or mother more than once.

The richness these bonus people bring to our lives is invaluable, but as with anything of value, there is a higher price to pay. We tend to view the dying process of our parents as a one time event in life. It is certainly burden enough.

With a bonus family, we mourn the loss of more than one father or mother whom we loved. We have to remind ourselves that it's okay to grieve both of them. Each incredibly different, neither less than the other, both deserving of love and grief.

In my life, I had to say goodbye to two fathers. I had to remind myself that this greater grief was also a greater blessing.