Since my father’s fairly sudden death this past February, I’ve felt unable to write about my experience, my thoughts, my emotions, and some of the profound healing insight that accompanied our brief time during and immediately after his emergency bowel obstruction surgery. That is, I felt stuck writing to myself, but when I wanted to share some of our story with my friend Maria Dancing Heart, author of The Last Adventure of Life, words, emotion, and images started to flow once again.
My writing, our story, and my connection to the many lessons I’ve received through my father’s end of life journey will see many more pages than I’ve only begun here. And I’m completely comfortable with waiting for the inspiration to rise up so to continue sharing this healing and utterly significant part of my life—this ending as well as new beginning chapter of relationship with my father.
I’d like to share the recollections which have already made it to paper in hope they will help construct the bridge for me to walk upon and meet halfway my father’s spirit. A bridge that is safe and secure to hold our history, our evolution, and our futures.
As I write, and remember, and share, it will come from my own source of truth and challenge with my father and not from a romanticized notion of our relationship. I owe us both that courtesy and conviction. We survived too much to minimize the healing power of forgiveness and finally, complete acceptance.
It is from this center that I dedicate my father story to my dad,
My writing, our story, and my connection to the many lessons I’ve received through my father’s end of life journey will see many more pages than I’ve only begun here. And I’m completely comfortable with waiting for the inspiration to rise up so to continue sharing this healing and utterly significant part of my life—this ending as well as new beginning chapter of relationship with my father.
I’d like to share the recollections which have already made it to paper in hope they will help construct the bridge for me to walk upon and meet halfway my father’s spirit. A bridge that is safe and secure to hold our history, our evolution, and our futures.
As I write, and remember, and share, it will come from my own source of truth and challenge with my father and not from a romanticized notion of our relationship. I owe us both that courtesy and conviction. We survived too much to minimize the healing power of forgiveness and finally, complete acceptance.
It is from this center that I dedicate my father story to my dad,
Kenneth Russell Snyder, Sr.
Dad, I love you...
My first attempt at writing about my father's death-a letter to a friend...
Hi Dancing Heart!
Receiving your email was a delightful surprise. Your blog looks wonderful. I’ve added it to my “favorites” and will first read it thoroughly and then refer others to it whenever an opportunity presents.
The last time I wrote on my blog site was in October after a soulful visit with my parents—my father in particular. In November my dad went into the hospital for about a two week stay with complaints of stomach & chest pain and unexplained weight loss. He was released without ever finding the cause of his “feeling he was dying.” After a short stay at a nursing home as the medical community tried to get his unexplained weight loss under control, they put him on a new bi-polar medication which made him veraciously hungry and he began gaining weight so he was sent home. This was just before Christmas.
I think it was in November that I decided to spend more time supporting my parents by bringing weekly meals and generally spending more time “being” with them. My dad was thrilled, especially by my cooking since I’m not known for my love of being in the kitchen. Just after my dad came out of the nursing home and Christmas was fast approaching, I took him shopping so he could buy a few gifts for my mom. I also took the liberty to buy gifts on his behalf knowing that his energies were low and he would not be able to do as much as he imagined. One of his comments that afternoon, “we’ve never done this before and I’m so happy we are now.” He treated me to donuts for dinner! Once home I wrapped the gifts while he took painstaking efforts to fill out each gift card with loving sentiments to the love of his life. Christmastime was more magical than ever before.
My dad would have one more special celebration, my mother’s 65th birthday, February 11th, before he died on February 13th. It was Sunday and my parents went to church which was a special celebration of the coming Valentines Day and a surprise cake for my mother’s birthday. The congregation had a pot luck lunch and sort of party for the two special occasions. I can’t say for sure, but my parents may have even danced that day together.
After church my parents spent the evening at my brother and his family’s where our mom was treated to a surprise fish dinner. My mom commented just after dinner to me that it was the best day she could remember ever spending. I had been in the kitchen “all” afternoon and most of the evening preparing an entire meal which I would bring to my parents the next day in celebration of mom’s birthday.
My mom called me at 6:30am Monday, the 12th, to say that they were at the hospital after a long night of severe pain for my father. They had just done a scan and my father had a bowel obstruction which had ruptured. He was considered critically ill and needed emergency surgery. My family arrived at the hospital within an hour and the long wait began. My dad made it through the actual surgery, but we were informed that it would be moment by moment to see if he would be able to recover from the toxins that had flooded all his vital organs. My hospice training automatically took reign and I began to work in service of my father.
With the exception of my mom’s sister who was in NJ and in the middle of a chemotherapy round, all our family came to dad’s bedside over that next almost 30 hours…his 4 children, his only surviving brother and his family, all my dad’s grandchildren, friends, pastors, neighbors… I spent time gently repeating, yet with deep belief, to every family member even as we sat in a group in the family waiting area, “now would be the time to say these most important things: Thank you, Please Forgive me, I forgive you, I love you, and We support you on this beautiful journey. “Please don’t miss this opportunity, please trust me on this,” was my counsel over and over even after being challenged that those words might send the message that we were giving up on him.
My dad had the most beautiful death I have yet had the profound blessing to witness. He was supported by our family circled and holding hands around him. When people needed guidance, I simply said, Love Him—send him your love, from the center of your heart and quietly wish him well on his journey…he has earned this beautiful exit…his body and spirit have worked very hard this lifetime…Wish him peace, wish him freedom from suffering…send him Love…Let him begin this new journey.
There’s even more beauty to this story…especially my understanding and getting my dad’s message that it was indeed his time to leave and how he gave the sign of the “dragonfly” to me…and how that too is connected to you, your book, and my father’s deep healing moments at the bedside.
I feel I can’t type anymore right now. I’d love to share more later. Emotions are flowing and I’ll take some moments to be still…
Thank you Dancing Heart for “the bridge” from pain to forgiveness and acceptance which you helped to build so my father and his family had a safe and supportive passageway into the Light of Death.
I love you.
Deep, heartfelt gratitude,
Receiving your email was a delightful surprise. Your blog looks wonderful. I’ve added it to my “favorites” and will first read it thoroughly and then refer others to it whenever an opportunity presents.
The last time I wrote on my blog site was in October after a soulful visit with my parents—my father in particular. In November my dad went into the hospital for about a two week stay with complaints of stomach & chest pain and unexplained weight loss. He was released without ever finding the cause of his “feeling he was dying.” After a short stay at a nursing home as the medical community tried to get his unexplained weight loss under control, they put him on a new bi-polar medication which made him veraciously hungry and he began gaining weight so he was sent home. This was just before Christmas.
I think it was in November that I decided to spend more time supporting my parents by bringing weekly meals and generally spending more time “being” with them. My dad was thrilled, especially by my cooking since I’m not known for my love of being in the kitchen. Just after my dad came out of the nursing home and Christmas was fast approaching, I took him shopping so he could buy a few gifts for my mom. I also took the liberty to buy gifts on his behalf knowing that his energies were low and he would not be able to do as much as he imagined. One of his comments that afternoon, “we’ve never done this before and I’m so happy we are now.” He treated me to donuts for dinner! Once home I wrapped the gifts while he took painstaking efforts to fill out each gift card with loving sentiments to the love of his life. Christmastime was more magical than ever before.
My dad would have one more special celebration, my mother’s 65th birthday, February 11th, before he died on February 13th. It was Sunday and my parents went to church which was a special celebration of the coming Valentines Day and a surprise cake for my mother’s birthday. The congregation had a pot luck lunch and sort of party for the two special occasions. I can’t say for sure, but my parents may have even danced that day together.
After church my parents spent the evening at my brother and his family’s where our mom was treated to a surprise fish dinner. My mom commented just after dinner to me that it was the best day she could remember ever spending. I had been in the kitchen “all” afternoon and most of the evening preparing an entire meal which I would bring to my parents the next day in celebration of mom’s birthday.
My mom called me at 6:30am Monday, the 12th, to say that they were at the hospital after a long night of severe pain for my father. They had just done a scan and my father had a bowel obstruction which had ruptured. He was considered critically ill and needed emergency surgery. My family arrived at the hospital within an hour and the long wait began. My dad made it through the actual surgery, but we were informed that it would be moment by moment to see if he would be able to recover from the toxins that had flooded all his vital organs. My hospice training automatically took reign and I began to work in service of my father.
With the exception of my mom’s sister who was in NJ and in the middle of a chemotherapy round, all our family came to dad’s bedside over that next almost 30 hours…his 4 children, his only surviving brother and his family, all my dad’s grandchildren, friends, pastors, neighbors… I spent time gently repeating, yet with deep belief, to every family member even as we sat in a group in the family waiting area, “now would be the time to say these most important things: Thank you, Please Forgive me, I forgive you, I love you, and We support you on this beautiful journey. “Please don’t miss this opportunity, please trust me on this,” was my counsel over and over even after being challenged that those words might send the message that we were giving up on him.
My dad had the most beautiful death I have yet had the profound blessing to witness. He was supported by our family circled and holding hands around him. When people needed guidance, I simply said, Love Him—send him your love, from the center of your heart and quietly wish him well on his journey…he has earned this beautiful exit…his body and spirit have worked very hard this lifetime…Wish him peace, wish him freedom from suffering…send him Love…Let him begin this new journey.
There’s even more beauty to this story…especially my understanding and getting my dad’s message that it was indeed his time to leave and how he gave the sign of the “dragonfly” to me…and how that too is connected to you, your book, and my father’s deep healing moments at the bedside.
I feel I can’t type anymore right now. I’d love to share more later. Emotions are flowing and I’ll take some moments to be still…
Thank you Dancing Heart for “the bridge” from pain to forgiveness and acceptance which you helped to build so my father and his family had a safe and supportive passageway into the Light of Death.
I love you.
Deep, heartfelt gratitude,
Kim
2 comments:
For me, this was such a difficult but beautiful piece to read. Thank you so much for sharing it. My father died 5 1/2 years ago, and in a lot of ways the way that his death - the actual letting go - went down has caused me more grief, guilt, anger and confusion than the fact of the death itself.
I know only a little about hospice work (back in college I had the privelege of being cast in a play called The Shadow Box, which dealt with death and dying, and we worked a little bit with some hospice workers in our area) but it seems to me that it gave you a great deal of grace in dealing with your own father's death. I can easily imagine what your presence and guidance gave to your family at the time.
I know I wish I'd had you with me the day my father died, but in a lovely way, after having read your story, it kind of feels like you were.
k, your words are deeply comforting and I humbly thank you for making this caring and intimate connection.
Having been at the bedsides of other daughters/fathers I empathize deeply the grief and difficulty you've shared about here. We do, very sadly, live within a culture that denies the dying process into intensely invasive and soul wounding medicalization moments. I am sorry you experienced anything less than the tenderness and beauty that could be wrapped around these moments of transformation and healing into LIGHT.
Blessings k.
kim
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