Categories: uncategorized
Date: 25 December 2006 00:06:22
So, since Tuesday we have been living at the hospice, making sure that Dad had someone with him at all times. Sometimes tense, sometimes soothing... when his breathing settled it was the most reassuring sound to sleep to, rather like a gentle cat's purr. Sometimes laughing, sometimes crying. Sometimes alone, sometimes together. I read so many books (discovered I really don't like Catherine Cookson anywhere near as much as I thought I did), completed crosswords (hard that, without Dad to ask for help), ate copious quantities of comfort food and was well cared for by the staff.
Last night became surreal as the almost silent hospice - only a couple of people in - was visited by a choir singing the most beautiful Christmas carols. It was lovely, yet painful somehow, and something strange was in the air. I'll swear Dad was able to hear them, and almost indecipherably his breathing began to change. This was the beginning of his gentle end. As I settled to sleep alongside him, listening to the rapid yet rhythmic rise and fall of his chest, I was aware of a strange feeling that made me reluctant to leave the door closed or even to close my eyes and I promptly readjusted the chair and sat up to read my book. It meant that I was able to call a nurse as I became more aware of the sudden irregularity of his breathing and, as she went to fetch my sister and the two of them returned together, he took one last breath and was finally at peace.
Goodnight and God speed, Dad.