20.3.26 - 78 - Crossing over

When did we start to fear death? When we start to think it was a massive failure to actually - die. The one thing which we are actually designed to do - apart from live. The irony is that people who fear death, actually don't spend a lot of time living. What is the entire point of life? I would assume it would be to walk that unique path - regardless of judgement and fear - that you would go on to live the life you promised yourself you would live when you came into this world. I utterly believe that. Despite having forgotten the exact reasons we came here for, we are programmed to do the thing we had promised ourselves to do - and somehow we end up getting sidetracked and doing completely idiotic things. Working in jobs which mean nothing for money which is derisory and insulting. Following this path, we will never be enough. Never.

Was I afraid when I realised that I would be helping Pa to cross over - looking after him through end of life care? I was terrified. Mostly because I had no idea what I was doing. The only thing I knew for certain was that I had understood that this life was the temporary one and that Pa had led the best possible life he could live - and that is all you can ask for. After that, it was about being able to read the signs. We had Yati, who, being Indonesian knew all about end of life signs. She made sure that I was looked after, as I looked after Pa.

For ten long days I was by Pa's side, making sure he was comfortable and had everything which he needed, even as his body began to shut down. At first, by not eating, then eventually, by not drinking. I watched as the life slowly ebbed from him, as he slipped further and further into the spirit world, spending less and less time with us, only ever dipping in to tell us how much he loved us, to thank us and to tell us to look after Ma.

The last thing he said to me, completely seriously, he looked me straight in the eyes and said, very determinedly, Look after Ma, look after Ma, do you understand? I said, yes Pa, I will. I'm going to come back and look after her. She will be absolutely fine. And that was the last time he was lucid. It was as if it had taken everything for him to say this to me - and then - after that, it was nearly three days before he left.

During this time, I would kiss him, and embrace him, reminded him of how much we loved him. I made sure he was clean and dry and safe. I held his hands and read to him. Moistened his lips which he really did not like. All the time I asked for forgiveness as I had no idea what I was doing, but I was doing my best. I told Ma, I am trying my best, but I do not know what I'm doing. 

We had circular conversations about was this right for him. What he had was incurable and therefore there was no point doing any treatment - in fact he wouldn't survive the treatments. The cancer had spread all over into his lymph nodes and adrenals. Bringing him to the hospital would result in him being sent to the hospice - and Pa's anathema was being separated from Ma, and since he was dying, he should be home, with Ma, with us, in familiar surroundings and with those whom he loved. This is where we ended. We concluded that this was the best course of action. We said we would register for hospice home care and that we would get advice from the professionals. But they took so long to get back to us that by the time they did Pa was gone.

So I watched YouTube videos and read up. I checked in occasionally with someone whom I thought might know. I hugged him and I kissed him. I made sure that he knew he was loved and he had nothing to worry about. I held his hand. 

He had the best death ever. He was never in any pain. He had no pain medication. His terminal agitation was restless rather than violent or disturbing. He tossed and turned in his sleep. Finally, he couldn't move any longer. I called my sister on Monday morning at 5 am and we kept vigil for two and a half hours. He left at 7.30 am. He went just after his last sunrise and as he did so the green parakeets called loudly, raucously. From here on in, they will ever after been known as Pa's bird. Whenever I hear or see them, I think Pa is near.

He looked so so peaceful. Hours after he left, the room was filled with a gentle light. Everything felt so light, as if there was an otherworldly sense - a sacred event has taken place. Pa was now returned to the spirit world and we had witnessed his birth. All that was left was his beloved body and that yawning absence of his earthly presence which would bring tears which came in waves over the course of the following days.

Death is not to be feared. Death is a friend. Death is a kindness. And dying the way he did - a friend of mine said to me, I would like to go like that too. It sounds amazing. Stage 4 cancer with no pain. No pain I said. No medication was taken over the last 10 days, except for some paracetamol which he administered himself when he still could. 

Whenever we miss him, Ma would say, he was 82 already, what more did he want? There was no pain...

I was supposed to return after this summer and then look after them. I truly believed that the dementia was going to take him. That we would spend a few years driving around Singapore, until he was too old and in a wheelchair and then... one day - dementia would do what it did. 

It would have been a more difficult way to go. But Pa was having none of that shit. Instead he said, just let me go quick. Let me have the chance to say goodbye. Let me be surrounded by the people who love me. Let me leave with peace. 

So when we talk about how sad we are, we say that we had no choice. He had an incredible life. He was so beloved. He had to go at some stage and this was the best possible way anyone could go. Not suddenly like a heart attack, but gently. So gently. 

The funeral was simple. We waked him for three days at the house. I stayed with him at night, sleeping on the sofa, making sure he was alone. It was odd. I had never had this experience before, staying with a body. There were so many firsts with Pa. Even as he left, he was still teaching me. It was such a gift, a privilege to accompany him every step of the way. This most difficult was lessons was imparted to me even as he lived, with such tremendous generosity. 

I had so much time to think about the man he was and how much he loved me. I asked for forgiveness for all the times I hurt him and even as I did, I knew that he would say there is nothing to forgive. 

And that is how he left. Walked over into the next life. It was like we had dropped him off at the final stop, he got off, and we then had to go on without him. Like it or not - there was no getting him back. We just let him go. It was such a relief that he did visit Oisin and was happy and healthy and told Oisin he was in great shape. In a way, I'm glad that Oisin did not see him - that he has the memory of him as that funny, silly, happy man, who was more than a grandfather to Oisin. 

So there Pa resides - on the other side. I'm certain I will see him again. He will be there, rooting for us and everything that we do. With his beaming smile and his giving heart, dancing his way into the after life. Love you Pa. You are now here there and everywhere.