I returned home this morning from driving my daughter to school. Shortly thereafter the phone rang. It was my brother John, who had driven down to Pinehurst late last night, as we had received word that my father's condition was worsening. Luckily, he and my mother had both spent the entire night at Fox Hollow by my father's bedside. Dad passed away peacefully at about 0530. I had been asleep at home, but I had actually woken up about that same time, and had looked over at the clock, because it was earlier than usual for me and still dark out. I went back to sleep at that point, but my father, as my brother put it, "just got up and left the room."
I have no doubt he was happy to leave that room and its inherent restrictions behind him. We are all happy as well that he is no longer bound by the limits of the Alzheimer's wing at Fox Hollow, Pinehurst NC, an unlikely spot for my father to have lived out the last months of his life. 20 January 1930 - 28 March 2008.
Here is what I wrote to myself upon arriving home from Fox Hollow last time I was there, the last time I would ever see my father alive. This is my elegy.
The blinds on the windows
Allow the sunlight
To brighten the floor
But not the mood
In the room.
The smiling faces frozen
In binding photo frames
Exude good cheer
That goes unnoticed
By my father.
There is an inevitability
To the disease
Terminal, frightening, certain
His thoughts a mystery
I sit quietly.
Medications suspended
Naught but a death watch
He has faded away
Ready for the end, he and I
Having already grieved.
Once he was a pilot
Alone, unafraid, courageous
He has soared to the heavens
And now, again, he will be
In God’s hands.
Friday, March 28, 2008
Friday, March 14, 2008
Maybe it runs in the family . . .
I was down in North Carolina last week. Ostensibly I was there to gather up tax documents so I could file my parents' 2007 taxes for them - they really did have an uncomplicated tax year. Standard stuff except for the $75,000 or so in medical expense exemptions. The only silver lining I could find from having to deal with that kind of crushing expense was that they had more exemptions than income, so they got their taxes back this year. And hey, that makes them eligible for the President's tax rebate, so they can go stimulate the economy by buying more adult diapers.
Of course, I was there as well to look in on my father and see how he was doing. On Saturday he was pretty well out of it, at least in the afternoon after I rolled into Pinehurst. I did get to talk to Rod, his caregiver, for a while, getting his perspective on the care Dad was receiving from the Fox Hollow staff. On Sunday morning Dad was a bit more alert - Sandy had been there in the morning but was no longer bringing him coffee - but he gradually faded off after some abortive attempts to speak to me. So after that I had to leave without really connecting at all that weekend.
The reason I was leaving town was to bring my mother up to her sister's funeral in Maryland. My aunt had had Alzheimer's as well, and passed away at the age of 83, or 5 years older than my father. I had managed to lose touch with my aunt and uncle, who were not more than 30 miles or so away, on the other side of "the Potomac Ocean" as my cousin calls it. I knew my aunt was in failing health, but I had not bothered to reinsert myself into their lives, so I had not seen her for years before she passed away. Nevertheless, I felt comfortable arriving for her funeral service and spending the majority of the day with my many cousins and their families. We were raised not so far apart, and spent many a Thanksgiving day together.
My path had crossed with those of disparate members of their family over the years, but we all got busy raising our own families, I suppose. Spending a day celebrating the life of my aunt, a wise and gentle soul, and mourning their loss felt a bit like foreshadowing. Here was a family, people I knew fairly well, dealing with the loss of a parent to Alzheimer's. It was almost like practice,a dry run (although my eyes were not dry), and it was also good training. They had been smart enough to make many preparations for the inevitable, hashing out the details for the funeral and internment well in advance. And they had been gracious enough to suggest I call them with any questions regarding such decisions. A family I had all but ignored for some years taking me to their bosom again. That felt good, even if it was a funereal day.
So my next visit to Pinehurst, NC will involve the maudlin details of funeral planning. It has been difficult to get my mother going regarding these decisions, and I have been sympathetic, but after last weekend I feel like we better gird our loins and lay out our plan. My approach is to broach a subject with my mother several times before actually trying to make any headway on it. So much of the day to day activity when I am in NC has become unpalatable. For my entire family, for my mother, and I have to believe for my father. There is the sense of being on hold, of a hang fire, when you can't really move on mentally, but must exist in the slow motion present that drags on and on, and you have to force yourself to do what is necessary. The next big step in this process will be the death of our father, the passing away of my mother's husband of 50+ years. Preparations must be made.
The logistics of this suspended animation have required a steady cash flow. Luckily we were able to finally sell our parents' old house. Unfortunately, it was down to two-thirds the original asking price due to the market decline of late. Nevertheless, that provided for a fixed annuity that will provide an income stream and ameliorate my mother's decline in income when my father passes away. Since the NC house was paid for, though, we needed to put a mortgage on it to free up cash to cover the $10,000 or so it costs each month to keep my father in the assisted living facility with the extra care we feel he requires. If his condition worsens, he will need to go to a nursing home, with similar overall costs. My parents had arranged fairly well for their retirement, but had not foreseen these kinds of expenses. It is a brutal arithmetic when you hit this stage of life.
So the logistics and the finances keep us occupied. Wading through my mother's mail keeps us consternated. And I have to say that visiting my father keeps me somewhat depressed. But after visiting with my relatives, just spending a day's time with my brave uncle and his close family, I see that this period of waiting, this time of suspension, bonds the family together and prepares them for the inevitable. It is a sore loss when someone you love dies, but being given the chance to prepare for it can be a saving grace.
Of course, I was there as well to look in on my father and see how he was doing. On Saturday he was pretty well out of it, at least in the afternoon after I rolled into Pinehurst. I did get to talk to Rod, his caregiver, for a while, getting his perspective on the care Dad was receiving from the Fox Hollow staff. On Sunday morning Dad was a bit more alert - Sandy had been there in the morning but was no longer bringing him coffee - but he gradually faded off after some abortive attempts to speak to me. So after that I had to leave without really connecting at all that weekend.
The reason I was leaving town was to bring my mother up to her sister's funeral in Maryland. My aunt had had Alzheimer's as well, and passed away at the age of 83, or 5 years older than my father. I had managed to lose touch with my aunt and uncle, who were not more than 30 miles or so away, on the other side of "the Potomac Ocean" as my cousin calls it. I knew my aunt was in failing health, but I had not bothered to reinsert myself into their lives, so I had not seen her for years before she passed away. Nevertheless, I felt comfortable arriving for her funeral service and spending the majority of the day with my many cousins and their families. We were raised not so far apart, and spent many a Thanksgiving day together.
My path had crossed with those of disparate members of their family over the years, but we all got busy raising our own families, I suppose. Spending a day celebrating the life of my aunt, a wise and gentle soul, and mourning their loss felt a bit like foreshadowing. Here was a family, people I knew fairly well, dealing with the loss of a parent to Alzheimer's. It was almost like practice,a dry run (although my eyes were not dry), and it was also good training. They had been smart enough to make many preparations for the inevitable, hashing out the details for the funeral and internment well in advance. And they had been gracious enough to suggest I call them with any questions regarding such decisions. A family I had all but ignored for some years taking me to their bosom again. That felt good, even if it was a funereal day.
So my next visit to Pinehurst, NC will involve the maudlin details of funeral planning. It has been difficult to get my mother going regarding these decisions, and I have been sympathetic, but after last weekend I feel like we better gird our loins and lay out our plan. My approach is to broach a subject with my mother several times before actually trying to make any headway on it. So much of the day to day activity when I am in NC has become unpalatable. For my entire family, for my mother, and I have to believe for my father. There is the sense of being on hold, of a hang fire, when you can't really move on mentally, but must exist in the slow motion present that drags on and on, and you have to force yourself to do what is necessary. The next big step in this process will be the death of our father, the passing away of my mother's husband of 50+ years. Preparations must be made.
The logistics of this suspended animation have required a steady cash flow. Luckily we were able to finally sell our parents' old house. Unfortunately, it was down to two-thirds the original asking price due to the market decline of late. Nevertheless, that provided for a fixed annuity that will provide an income stream and ameliorate my mother's decline in income when my father passes away. Since the NC house was paid for, though, we needed to put a mortgage on it to free up cash to cover the $10,000 or so it costs each month to keep my father in the assisted living facility with the extra care we feel he requires. If his condition worsens, he will need to go to a nursing home, with similar overall costs. My parents had arranged fairly well for their retirement, but had not foreseen these kinds of expenses. It is a brutal arithmetic when you hit this stage of life.
So the logistics and the finances keep us occupied. Wading through my mother's mail keeps us consternated. And I have to say that visiting my father keeps me somewhat depressed. But after visiting with my relatives, just spending a day's time with my brave uncle and his close family, I see that this period of waiting, this time of suspension, bonds the family together and prepares them for the inevitable. It is a sore loss when someone you love dies, but being given the chance to prepare for it can be a saving grace.
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