29.3.26 - 91 - In other worlds

Treasures from clearing out the cupboards in the kitchen

Kasut manek! - Beaded shoes using faceted coloured glass. At least 100 years old

Sushi - out for dinner for the first time

Yesterday was a tough day. It is nearly two weeks since Pa's passing. Two weeks ago he started to stop taking any water. I stopped waking him up to drink. He was now sleeping so peacefully that waking him up was so terrible. Jac asked yesterday should we have taken him to hospital? A conversation we had a million times. And this is how the conversation went:

Should we take him to hospital?

What we do know? He has stage 4 stomach cancer - with no pain. Utterly painless.

The doctors said that all treatment - from surgery to radiotherapy was pointless.

Pa is 82 years old. He is now very weak. He is now refusing food. He is sleeping all the time.

He would hate to be in hospital. He has told us a zillion times that it is pointless being hooked up to machines. He has told Jac that if it is his time to go, to let him go.

He wants to be with Ma all the time. So no hospital.

The hospice would be the same thing. He would just be made comfortable until he crossed over.

If we can, we could try this at home. Until we can't do this at home anymore.

Here he is surrounded by people whom he loves, who are solely looking after him. I am attending to his every need. I am making sure he is safe and comfortable. 

At home, in this house, he can pass on his own terms. He will have complete control over this.

So that was the literal conversation.

Keeping him alive needlessly when he is clearly ready to go.

Jac asked, Do you think he knew he was dying?

I don't know, but his last instructions to me were, please look after Ma - and he only nodded his head when I said I was moving back from Ireland.

Do you think he was in pain, in the dark, frightened?

I said, he was not in pain and research has shown that people who come back tell of a beautiful light. I said, I fully believe that his father came to get him. He was finally able to meet his father again. Reunited on the other side. And he was in complete peace. He had all of us around him as he went. We let him go. I said people who are frightened of going never go peacefully and willingly. People who have long drawn out deaths do so because they are afraid to go or because they are not being allowed to go. We supported him all the way, this allowed him to cross over peacefully.

I saw him as he walked further and further from us. I kissed his hands and his face and made sure that he was alright. That he knew that he was utterly loved. That everyone loved him. I spoke to him and read to him, although I don't know if he could hear me since he was already so deaf to begin with. I cried and asked for forgiveness, even as I knew he would say to me that not only was it already given, but there was nothing to forgive. We have him the best possible crossing over we were able to give.

I cry every morning. I do. I cry every morning, without fail, all by myself, as I write this blog. Trying to process everything. Everything. I said that I was sorry I didn't come back earlier, but there was Ghin - but now - I have also had to abandon Ghin - to make sure Ma is alright. So, here we are. Who knows what the next adventure will be? 

With regards to Pa, we had no choice - well we did, but they were all bad choices. Prolong his suffering, lose control of the process, putting him in hospital where he was only one number and not a very interesting one at that. Where he would be alone. We literally had no choice. Or the other choices were bad choices. 

I write daily beside Pa's picture. His table of memorial things. Pictures of him playing golf and smiling and laughing and being so alive. And he was so alive. He led this totally full life on his own terms. He was ready to go. Jac said should we have told him he had cancer? I said, he had no idea what was going on - it all happened so quickly Jac. So quickly. By the time we could say anything, he was unable to process the news. We had this conversation a million times when he was alive.

And Pa passed away so peacefully. He was never angry, he was never unhappy. He was completely and totally at peace. All he ever said, when he could still speak was I love you, thank you and take care of Ma. That was all he ever said. Also you have to come down every year, bring the boys with you and collect the travel money. (Which I haven't done for at least ten years.) 

I still do think he is here. I don't really feel like he is gone. He is still in Cowdray, the place he loved the most. Of all the places in the world.