J's dad died about 3 a.m.on Saturday 23rd June 2012. We had bee tensed up waiting for it to happen since 8p.m. on Thursday... It was a difficult couple of days and nights (or however long it was) with 4 adults in his room at his bedside (his 3 offspring and me, there to keep an eye on J).
On the last night we were joined by Margaret, a lovely Hospice at Home nurse, who was quiet, calm, gentle and efficient, and that was very reassuring. About 1 a.m. she sent the 4 of us into the residents' lounge (in the care home) and 2 slept on recliner chairs and J and I were on the floor. We had resisted leaving the room but were obviously all shattered and we did all manage to sleep for a couple of hours. Margaret called ius through and it was obvious DIL had only a few minutes left: his breathing had gone from stertorous to almost imperceptible and his colour had changed again. (At this point J went off to the loo and I had a very nasty moment thinking he would be having a pee while his father took his last breath...but no, he got back in time).
Margaret discreetly left us in private for a while and then the care staff (extremely caring and so nice, all the time, to all of us) had made us what appeared to be afternoon tea which we all picked at. It was quite surreal, at 4 in the morning! The doctor came and then the undertaker (who had overseen J's mum's funeral back in 2009, and knew the family well and is cheerful and kind. We took our time to make the bedroom look as though 4 squatters hadn't been camped out there and packed up all DIL's stuff. Then we went our separate ways: SIL to near Penrith (where she found her dog had had hideous diiarrhoea ALL over her kitchen floor and her husband and daughter were obliviously asleep...yuck), BIL back to DIL's house for a nap before driving back down to Derbyshire, and J and I in separate cars back home (5 minutes away). Throughout almost the whole ordeal the rain bucketed down and the world was grey. Seemed appropriate.
J and I slept for a few hours but are still drunk with tiredness. It'll take a few days to reset our body clocks, I guess. We are all sad, but accepting. He was a good dad, J said (himself the best dad I've ever met). The siblings all get on well and were all unceasingly gentle and loving towards their poor old dad, who was so very frail and tiny. SIL (the ex-nurse) really came into her own with her practical care of him: I'm definitely NOT that kind of a daughter, but it obviously makes a difference if your dad is lovely and you love him dearly.
Although it was a difficult experience, I thiink, no, I KNOW I am glad to have had it. It exorcised a few demons for me: it was the kind of experience I wish I had had with my own father, but it couldn't really have been more different. The image of DIL's drawn. skeletal face and open mouth is very vividly before me, but I believe that, latterly, he wasn't in pain any more, and I hope the image will fade, and that this experience will 'cancel out' my earlier one last November.
