Public displays of unhappy emotions (such as grief or anger) have never appealed to me and I avoid them. Maybe others feel the same and that is why there are various social mechanisms to allow private emotions to take their course.

 

They exist for good reason and within that sphere, they ought not be suppressed. Emotions drive much of life.

 

A few days ago, my parents showed up at the hospital with serious injuries consequent to an auto accident that destroyed the car they were in and left each seriously injured. Both of them have been communicative, but niether can speak because of intubation. Mom has written on sticky notes. Dad has blinked and shook and nodded his head.

 

Yesterday I was jubilant because my father seemed engaged and aware. Today, no response whatever. None.

 

It occures to me that he really may lose this recovery battle owing to age, prior conditions, and the severity of the damage.

 

He had wanted to survive into his nineties, but I think it’s a real possibility that given facts he may size everything up and conclude that since a continuation of life is certain  then the timing is right to move along to the next stage. He’s always seemed to have a wait and see attitude about that owing to a general distrust of religion. Reasonably well earned, I think. Much of what passes for religion is simply contrivance or worse.

 

When I witnessed death for the first time, I came away pleased that it was not as portrayed in movies and books. The man I watched pass paid no attention to his bedside guests, who came because the nurses advised them that his time was very near. None had come in all the time I worked at that facility but suddenly there they were staring at him and showing that they cared.

 

His breathing was a pattern that forshadows death. Chain stoking.

 

Suddenly he sat up in the bed, eyes wide open with a big smile of recognition as he reached one arm toward whatever he saw in the corner of the ceiling. Then he fell back on the pillow and exhaled, never breathing in again.

 

Say what you will, I believe someone he knew came and retrieved him.  I have reason to believe it was a welcome and pleasant reunion. He was glad to go. It seems ironic that he showed no such response to those at his bedside. Maybe he wasn’t alert to them or maybe he ignored them or maybe things seriously changed when whoever fetched him showed up.

 

I had not doubted that life continues, but the confirmation was welcome and the comfort from seeing the joy of it left me satisfied that it’s more of a graduation or transition than people would have you believe.

 

For this reason, I haven’t feared death. But it’s nearly universally true that once a person exits, they’re gone for all practical purposes from acting directly within the roles they held here. The interactions cease.

 

So the grief is reasonable, because that soul you’ve come to depend on is inaccessable.

 

“Gone” seems harsh. We do meet up later.

 

Today I went three times to see my parents. Mom seemed agitated and I think it’s because she’d really like to communicate, but the situation very much limits her. Heavily medicated, hurting, and intubated, she has few avenues to make her point. Her glasses disappeared in the wreck, so she can’t see details except when they’re close to her face. Get too close, however, and it sets off an equipment alarm.

 

Dad, at least today, showed zero response. His eyes were opened and he appeared to be awake, but there was no response to words or touch. His internals are not all working within specs, particularly the kidneys and stomach.

 

Yesterday, when he still had the benefit of pre-accident blood chemistry, he was cognizant and responsive.

Today, his body is seeing a degradation of it’s resources.

 

He has always been very good at making the best of things. This time, it may not be enough. I no longer get to enjoy the hopeful demeanor that carried me through the initial news.

He might not make it.

 

None of us get to stay here forever, that’s not the plan. The plan is better than that. But still, it works against our natures to be okay with the part of this existence that severs access to those we love. Our nature is to expect that since love is forever, the objects of that affection should be also. They are, but after a seperation.

 

On this planet, you come and do your part and then you leave. It’s almost like high school, where the graduating class goes away and the next year, they’re off earning a living while those who are left readjust. Eventually everyone graduates and they’re usually happy about it.

 

Still, I really don’t enjoy grieving and I hope I can put it off until dad reaches his goal of sticking around till he’s in his nineties.

 

Today’s tears are just practice because I know he’ll eventually pass on but he’s here now. Soon, I go to see him again. Maybe he’ll pull through. He’s certainly got a good track record of that!

I’ll remind him he’s not at the goal yet: 92. He’s not Methuselah, but it’s worth shooting for. There are still good things he could do. And I can enjoy him a little longer.