Sunday morning my mother was reading through the hospice book and said she thought we were in the “one to two weeks” period, based on the factors mentioned in the book. I wondered if we were in the “days/hours” period when I read it.

Mother and I were pragmatic and relatively unemotional Saturday, but Sunday was a different story. We were both crying Sunday morning listening to the voicemails I had on my phone from my father. She had asked my father to leave her a sweet voice message that she could keep forever, but he never got around to it. She played me a voicemail she had on her phone from her father who died three years ago. It was great to hear his voice again. The voicemail that had us both sobbing was the one where my father had called me when I left while he was in the bathtub because I knew he wasn’t feeling good. He was crying, apologizing for not spending more time with me and telling me he loved me.

Shortly after we pulled ourselves together from that, a friend of my father’s from high school showed up with his wife. My father’s friend started crying as soon as he saw the hospital bed. I played them the rough draft I had put together of the slideshow. The sound wasn’t working, which was annoying, but they still seemed to enjoy looking at the pictures. There were a couple pictures of my father with this friend from back when they were in high school. He seemed really excited to see those.

My father’s brother came over shortly after that. Once he was there I headed home for a bit. I ordered a new MacBook to pick up from Best Buy because I was getting too stressed out at my old MacBook and the slideshow is too important to me to risk it all getting messed up by old technology. My daughter had planned to go back to my parents’ house with me for the anointing of the sick, but when I was explaining to my eight-year-old why I didn’t want him to go my daughter changed her mind and said she didn’t want to see Grandpa like that either.

So, I went to pick up my MacBook and then headed back to my parents’ house by myself. My step-grandmother and uncle were both there. My aunt showed up shortly after me and then a couple my parents are close with showed up as well. My step-grandmother then headed home, but my aunt and uncle and the other couple stayed to wait for the priest. My parents’ friends knew this priest personally from when he was at another parish, so I’m glad they were there.

While my father had been able to construct sentences on Saturday, by Sunday he couldn’t talk much. He said “Love you” and “Thank you” a lot, but that was about it. The anointing was very beautiful and I’m so glad we had people there to pray over my father with us. My father thanked the priest afterwards and when the priest heard that he offered my father the Eucharist (I had said I wasn’t sure my father would be able to receive the Eucharist, so I think the priest was surprised when my father appeared to be at least semi-conscious). My father said, “Sure. That’d be fine,” which, again, is a huge deal because he hadn’t really been able to speak much that day. So, my father was given a small piece of the host. We were all very happy about that. I was crying. All I had really hoped for was that trip to Hot Springs and that he would receive the anointing of the sick. I got both of those things. After the anointing I told my father I loved him and he was able to look at me and say, “Love you.”

As the priest was leaving, one of my father’s friends showed up. He shared with me a link to the shirts he had made in my father’s memory. That kind gesture of him putting all that together really means a lot to me. My older sons and I have ordered hoodies that he designed with a picture of my father. This friend is probably closer to my age than my father’s age. His father passed away a few months ago. He had lots of kind words and told me how kind my father was to him and how my father had him laughing at his father’s funeral, which meant a lot to him.

My brother showed up a little after that and my father’s eldest brother came down as well. It was a nice crowd and a really sweet day. My brother doesn’t start his job for a couple weeks, so he’s been staying the night with my parents. He stayed Sunday night, Monday night, and he’s staying tonight. I will be staying tomorrow night.

I had to take my older kids to the orthodontist Monday morning, but made it to my parents’ house around noon. I haven’t been sleeping great, so its been hard to get up in the mornings. Sunday night I felt so emotional it was hard to sleep. Then Monday morning I woke up earlier than I had planned and just started sobbing. I knew this was coming and I thought I grieved a lot on the front end, but this has all hit so hard.

Caring for my father Monday was really tough. I cried a lot that day. Sunday, we had been able to get my father up and to the bathroom when he needed to urinate. The first time he made it to the bathroom, but then peed on the bathroom floor before he made it to the toilet. After that, he was using the potty chair hospice provides, but was largely able to handle the back and forth without a tremendous amount of help. Monday, though, he could barely lift himself up. So, my brother and my uncle were having to do the transfer to the potty chair. At one point, my mother and I were the only ones there and we couldn’t lift him, so we had to make him use his depends. He hated that. Then, you could tell it was excruciating for him when we had to roll him back and forth to change him. It made me cry seeing him like that. The next several times he had to urinate he would start convulsing and moaning, like he really didn’t want to use the depends. My mother would stand by him and talk sweetly to him, telling him she was sorry, that it had to be this way, and that she loved him.

My mother has been so sweet and loving to my father. My aunt and I joked Sunday about how this isn’t the first time she’s had to clean my father up when he pissed himself (though the other times were related to alcohol use). We kept telling her how strong she is and my aunt pointed out how my mother’s been caring for my father very well for decades. She stands by his bed talking to him, telling him how much she loves him, how much she’s going to miss him, explains what medicines she’s giving him, and tries to reassure him she’s just trying to make him comfortable.

By Monday my father wasn’t really talking at all. I think the only thing I heard him say was “shit” when we were trying to change his depends. Our former law partner, who retired in December, came by Monday afternoon with his wife. They brought lots of food. I think he was really shocked how much my father had deteriorated. They didn’t stay long. Once my father had to urinate again and we had to go through that ordeal they slipped out. I cried as they hugged me. Lots of crying that day.

Both my father’s brothers came out Monday. I cried pretty much every time we had to go through the ordeal of changing the depends. I think it was making everyone tear up. It just hurts so much to see my father like that. After everyone else left, I started sobbing talking to my mother and brother. I told them I knew he was going to die soon, but I naively thought we would skip this stage. I guess I kind of figured he would just take too many pills at the first sign of getting to this point. My mother said he had told her he’d decided to let nature run its course. Also, the decline happened so quickly there wasn’t really any sort of warning as to what was coming or how fast it was coming.

My mother sort of asked us if we wanted to try to end things for him Monday night. It feels so awful having those conversations, but seeing him in so much pain when we had to roll him over was just heartbreaking. We decided if he wanted to let nature run its course we would honor that and just do our best to continue keeping him comfortable. We did up his fentanyl patches to 200mg today to try to help manage the pain (he was previously at 150mg) and I believe they gave him a little extra morphine last night and gave him a little extra before the nurse came to give him a bath.

Today, he seemed more comfortable than Monday and he no longer appears to be convulsing when he needs to urinate. Now, he just picks at his depends once he was gone. I wasn’t there at any point where they had to change him, but I got the impression those were going better. I don’t believe he is saying any words anymore. Saturday he was able to drink out of a straw, but by Sunday my mother was pouring a little water into his mouth, and now I think squeezing the tiny sponge into his mouth is all we can do. The hospice book says dehydration is our friend in all of this.

I had to work today. The local sewer district my father represented for years gave me a plaque/clock they had made for him. I started bawling. I pulled it together fairly quickly though. I stayed and talked with the administrator for a while. He had seen my father two Thursdays ago and had a really nice visit. He told me they prayed together and that meant a lot to me. I know my father had a rather tenuous relationship with religion the last few years, so I loved hearing about my father praying.

After that meeting I stopped by and sat with my mother for a bit. Then, I had to go to a trial and then another meeting. I went back out after those things and hung out for a few hours. My father’s oldest brother was there. It is really sweet how involved my father’s siblings have been and how much they are trying to be there for us now. I was less emotional tonight. I wrote out the bullet points for what I want to say at my father’s funeral and told my mom the general concept of what I plan to say. My mother wrote the obituary. She did a really good job on that.

One of my uncles had brought out a book from his church on planning the Catholic funeral. I started going through that Monday and noting which readings I approved of to hopefully narrow it down some for my mother. I still need to read through the gospel readings, so my mother let me bring the book home so I can work on that. I’ve noted the songs I want, picked out the readers, and who I want to carry the gifts.

I ordered some dresses I wanted for the visitation and funeral over a month ago, but because they hadn’t shipped yet as of Sunday I ordered a couple more from Amazon that I don’t like as much. I finally received notice the first set of dresses had shipped, but I don’t have the tracking number yet, so I’m not sure where they shipped from. Maybe my father will hang around long enough for me to get them. It’s crazy because Monday my heart was breaking for him and I was just hoping it would go fast. Tonight, his breathing was slowing way down and I kept worrying that he was going and it was such an awful feeling. My chest got so tight thinking he might be gone. Even though he’s in such a shitty position picturing him actually dying still fucking sucks.

I told my brother I had a good outline of what I planned to say at the funeral. He said he’d like to speak too, but he isn’t sure if he can get through it without getting choked up. He was kind of waiting on everyone tonight and told us he’s trying to stay busy because when he isn’t busy he gets sad. When he showed up Sunday he started crying because he was not expecting my father to have declined so drastically. His kids were playing with my father on Friday, so I think the steep decline was shocking. I told him I didn’t expect him to speak, I just really wanted to. He said he liked the idea and would like to say something too, but just wasn’t sure. My mother said she didn’t intend to try to speak because she knew it would be too hard for her.

Amid all the negative, I must say the outpouring of kindness is so humbling. I had a trial set Thursday and I emailed the other attorneys involved to see if they would agree to a continuance so I could stay with my parents that day. They not only agreed, but they offered to draft the motion and proposed order so I didn’t have to worry about, saying that was the only thing they could really do to help so they wanted to do what they could. I started crying when I read their emails because that seemed so sweet, and it was a relief to not have to rush around to get any pleadings filed. I had to reschedule another meeting and the client in that instance was also super sweet and told me to focus on what is important right now.

We are truly blessed with such an amazing support system and the wonderful relationships my father has cultivated over the years. I posted on Facebook Sunday that I was grateful my father had a beautiful place to spend his last days, and I was grateful for those who were there to pray with us. I’ve received so many sweet comments on that, most of which make me cry. I’m going to try to work all day in the office tomorrow. The thought of sitting in my office and looking at the chair my father used to sit in when he would come check in with me in the mornings makes me cry. I don’t know if I’ll be able to keep it together, but I’m going to give it my best shot. I’m going to teach youth group tomorrow night and then head out to stay the night at my parents’ house.

When I stayed the night Saturday night my father only woke up once. I gave him a little medicine and he went back to sleep. He did sit up when he woke up, but I was able to hug on him and get him to lay back down. My brother said he’s been waking up about three times per night for him the past two nights. I’m really grateful for my brother in all of this. I think its really important for my mother to be getting sleep. She says she’s taking a sleeping pill, which is probably good. Otherwise, she would probably be struggling to sleep as much as I am.