The day I've dreaded all my life finally came. The day I had to say goodbye to my Papaw. I have a fairly small family, so other than my niece's passing this summer, I've never been directly affected by death. I'm very afraid of death and the unknown. I read the bible to see what to expect and try to have faith, but the thought of death still scares me. I know that in Heaven, loved ones will appear differently to us than they do here on Earth. I know that it will be a beautiful thing and I'll feel no fear or pain then, but the thought of any change always scares me.
I think I knew in my heart that today would be the day my Paps passed. I knew I wanted to be there but I was paralyzed with fear. Could I handle seeing life leave his body? Would I stand stoically or would I crumble into pieces and fall on the ground? I sat on the couch for hours pondering this and wondering if I had the mental and emotional strength to even need to be there. I finally turned on autopilot in my brain and pushed myself to just get in the car. I hate living with regrets.
At that point, I still wasn't 100% sure today would be the day. I knew the doctors had suggested it and that my mom was going up there to talk to them, but a part of me was still trying to evade the truth. Unfortunately, as an adult and dealing with such critical situations as this, hiding in your room won't make it go away.
I wasn't in much of a rush to get there, since I didn't know what was happening, which was probably for the best in retrospect. My mind couldn't entertain the fact that this was really it. I assumed we'd just visit him and talk about it, then go home. Traffic was heavy so we took Kingston Pike to Fort Sanders, instead of the interstate that stresses me out, especially at rush hour. When I finally got in touch with my mom, it was happening! I was urgently trying to send a message for them to wait, but we were stuck at a red light under an overpass that was blocking my phone's signal. Rich sped up and dropped me off in front of the hospital and went to park the car. I ran as fast as I could to the elevator and prayed that I had made it in time. I felt like I looked like someone in a movie racing through the airport to stop the person they love from getting on a plane, but I imagine the people I was running past knew whatever I was running toward wouldn't be a fairytale ending.
I arrived to my family standing outside his ICU room. I wondered if I was too late and nearly fell to my knees, but I had made it just in time, literally without a minute to spare. I found myself peeking under the blinds at what they were doing to my Papaw, like a child seeing what the adults are doing. After the doctors and nurses finished, we were able to go in and spend his final moments with him. When someone is taken off life support, an innocent, hopeful part of you is thinking maybe they'll pop up and start breathing on their own. People write books about it all the time! You pray like you've never, ever prayed before for a miracle.
The next five minutes were life-changing. He spent his whole life, years and years, building a business, loving a family, making friends, earning respect, beating the odds and within five minutes, that force to be reckoned with was gone from this Earth. We were talking to my Paps trying to comfort him, and each other somewhat, and play him a song. We told him how much we loved him and thanked him for everything he'd done. We told him how good of a dad and grandfather he was. He was medicated so I truly don't think he was in any pain. He looked more peaceful in those minutes than he has in the past three weeks of misery he's been through. We looked at the monitor and watched as his heart rate and blood pressure slowed, holding our breaths hoping for that miracle.
That miracle didn't come for us, but something I saw touched my heart in a way that will change the way I look at life forever. As he was passing and we were talking to him, a tear welled up in his eye. "He's crying!" my mom and I said to each other and pointed out to the rest. That froze me in my place. Was it a reflex? Was Paps still in there? I have to admit, I haven't felt much of a presence when I've visited him lately, but I thought that could've been the Propofol. I thought he was already gone, days, maybe weeks ago. I thought all that was left was his body, his temple for life that he had left behind.
When I got home I did some searching online about that single tear that kept haunting my thoughts. That tear has a name. It's called Lacrima Mortis, meaning "tear of death." Some people believe that at the moment of death, the body relaxes and releases what is stored in it and the single tear is just a part of that, but it's more common in patients who are expecting death, as opposed to sudden deaths, like car accidents, etc. which leads me to believe there's more to it. There are also reports of it happening up to 10 hours before.
Others believe that the tear of death is shed as the person passing sees the face of God or sees their waiting loved ones. Maybe he could see his father, friends and Paisley and they were welcoming him. Maybe he heard our words of love and comfort to him and felt our warmth and it brought a tear to his little brown eye. Maybe he saw our tears and it was one last feeling of sadness, having to leave us alone to fend for ourselves. Maybe there was something he so badly wanted to say to us but was unable to communicate and that was the only signal he could give us.
It could be any of these things but I'd like to believe it was him saying goodbye to us and that he was seeing something so overwhelmingly beautiful that it brought tears to his eyes. Something we can't even imagine yet, because we're only humans and only know Earth, so far, with all of its pain and craziness. I hope he was overcome with peace and that he feels so much joy. He's met our Lord now. As hard as it is to let him go, I know he's been in so much pain here for so long that it must've been a huge relief to him, even though I know he didn't want to leave us, or his office, just yet.
After he passed, I felt compelled to get a tissue and wipe that tear from his eye. I knew it would be the last time I would be able to feel like I was of comfort to him. I know he's wiped many tears from my eyes. I made him some promises before I left that I plan on keeping. Like I told you Paps, I'll do the best I can.. ;) I don't know what I'm going to do with that sugar-free ice cream in the freezer I bought a few weekends ago to make you milkshakes when you got home. I was going to sneak almond milk in them and see if you noticed. I'd give anything to be able to see you, talk to you and share one more milkshake. It breaks my heart to know that any children of my own I may have someday won't get to meet you. Luckily, Dylan and I will have plenty of stories to share.
"I have fought the good fight, I have finished the race, I have kept the faith." -- 2 Timothy 4:7
Lacrimosa -- Latin for "Weeping"
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