RIP my Papa

The journey has ended for my Papa, it continues for those of us still here.  We had an experience that was a special as he was.  For 23 days my mom was at his side with only short little breaks.  For the last 8 days we surrounded Papa with love and family each and every minute save those that my mom had to sleep and the hospice nurse took over.  He took his time with his journey, he did it right and he did it his way, just like he lived life.  Though he was in a semi conscious state and then an unconscious state he still managed to ooze his charm for those around him.  We were told yesterday that it would happen last night.  I slept on the couch in the room next to where he was and I awoke at 3am sensing a change in his breathing.  I sat with him while the nurse cleaned his mouth and gave him a manicure.  His breathing was changing rapidly during this time.  Around 5am we woke my mom to come and say good bye.  She spent the next 12 minutes whispering to him and holding his hand as I held his other and his breathing slowed and slowed and slowed and stopped.  He finished his journey at 5:12 am and started his next journey at the same time.  Our plans are that he will be cremated and the close immediate family will spread his ashes at the beach where we spent so much time together, his favorite place.  There will be no viewing, he didnt like them when he was here so he certainly would not like having one for himself.  We will celebrate his life on Dec 4 at home with an Ice Cream Social, since he loved his ice cream.

We got this poem from one of our hospice nurses and my mom just loves it so thought I would share it:

I am standing upon the seashore.  A ship at my side spreads her white sails to the morning breeze and starts for the blue ocean.  She is an object of beauty and strength.  I stand and watch her until at length she hangs like a speck of white cloud just where the sea and sky come to mingle with each other.

Then someone at my side says:  "There, she is gone!"

"Gone where?"

Gone from my sight.  That is all.  She is just as large in the mast and hull and spar as she was when she left my side and she is just as able to bear her load of living freight to her destined port.

Her diminished size is in me, not in her.  And just at the moment when someone at my side says: "There, she is gone!" there are other eyes watching her coming, and other voices ready to take up the glad shout: "Here she comes!"

And that is dying.

Henry Van Dyke

Rest in peace my sweet Papa, you are forever in our hearts and we know you are in a better place free of the body that shut down way too soon.