I recently traveled back to my home state to be with my family and dying father. This year so far has been a pretty shitty year for our family. So many things going on within the family including some salacious secrets that have emerged about a couple of my sisters. That’s neither here nor there. The most disturbing and horrific one of all came to light a few days into the new year when my father was diagnosed with Stage IV Adenocarcinoma. Talk about a kick in the stomach. My dad was 69 years old.
The doctor’s really had no answers for us as to how it originated, although my father grew up in a steel mill town and his father and one of his brother’s died of cancer and his other living brother has emphysema. Personally, I think it was something in the area where they grew up that caused the cancer. Although, we’ll never know.
I flew home when I first discovered my dad’s diagnosis and prognosis. His Oncologists wouldn’t put a time stamp on his days left, however, they estimated it to be within months. They encouraged my father to begin Chemotherapy to sustain quality of life, and then radiotherapy later on to shrink the tumor on his back. That’s how he was diagnosed by the way, he was complaining of a lot of back pain, and I could tell in the fall when I went home for a visit that my dad aged and looked a little sickly. I passed it off as it being part of his Alzheimer’s. Incidentally, my parents attended the funeral of my ex mother-in-law and after the calling hours mom took dad to the ER to be checked out. They did an MRI of my dad’s back and it showed a large tumor on his back. Being a Registered Nurse, I knew it couldn’t be good. Still I hoped.
They admitted him for more testing. They did a complete body bone scan which showed brittle bones and some spots on his lungs. They then did a biopsy of the tumor and we waited for the diagnoses and stage of the cancer. As expected, the news was not good and completely devastated our family. He started his first round of chemo by the time I got home. Along with my Mom, I took him to the Cancer Center for his second session. It was awful and just sitting there watching all the people walk through the doors, young and old, inflicted with various types and stages of cancer, it broke my heart.
My dad didn’t tolerate the chemo very well. It wiped him out, and he ended up in the hospital for dehydration and low white count. He was losing control of his bowels. It was so embarrassing for him. We asked him what he wanted and he said, “No more chemo.” Let me go home to die. He gave up. But really, at that point, he didn’t have much of a chance. Who was I to judge? So we supported his decision and called in Hospice to help my father manage his pain and care.
It was hard on all us family members. I felt guilty. With me having to fly back home and get back to work, I wasn’t able to help with his care. Between Hospice, friends, and family a schedule was worked out. It seemed by late February and early March my dad was doing better. He was even up walking around again and was asking to get out of the house.
Easter was when everything started going downhill. His pain was getting worse and he was barely walking, eating, or putting out urine or moving his bowels. His Hospice nurse told us in was in transition and had maybe a few days, possibly a week left. I got the call. My sister and her family and my daughter and her friend happened to be visiting me for spring break. We waited a couple of days to see what was what, then my sister decided to fly home. She called me while I was at work and asked me if I wanted to join her. I decided I should wait and see what was going on. It was a financial situation for me. My daughter is graduating high school at the end of May and I had her party to pay for and my vacation days are accrued by the month. I don’t get them all at one time.
I went home and asked my sister to send me a picture of my dad’s state. When that picture came across my phone in a text message I knew nothing else mattered. It was time to get home. My boyfriend booked and payed for my flight home. I caught an early flight out the next morning, and my sister who had flown home the night before, picked me up at the airport, and we headed for my mom and dad’s house.
That was on Friday. All four sisters and myself and mother took turns with my dad’s medication schedule and his care throughout the days and nights. We were there to support one another. Various other family members came and went, but my sisters and my mother never left his side. He was in a hospital bed in my Mom’s living room. My dad had lucid moments and sometimes tried to speak but the words wouldn’t come out. He basically acknowledged us with his eyes or a hand squeeze. He wasn’t eating and we gave him water through a syringe every couple of hours along with his medication. By Sunday night, he was pretty much comatose and his breathing patterns were going from slow to rapid. I knew he was in his final hours. My Mother decided she was spending that night on the couch next to my dad, along with one of my sisters. It had been myself and one of my older sisters keeping watch during the night up until that point. My one sister and I slept in my parent’s bed. I made it to bed first, and I was freaked out to sleep on my dad’s side. I think my sister knew that, but never said anything.
I had a dream that night, that my father reached up and hugged me from his bed and said good-bye. The next morning my sister and I woke up around 9 am and went downstairs to check on everyone. I went to the kitchen first to throw on a pot of coffee for everyone and my sister came into the kitchen and said my dad was burning up and his respirations were very fast. I went to his bedside. His hands and feet were purple. His face was pallor. I tried to take his pulse but it was so weak and thready. My mom and sister awoke as well and we woke everyone up in the house and said it was time. We gathered around his bed. We cried, which we had done many times before in the last few days. This time we knew the end was near.
One of my sisters called Hospice, and his nurse who had been on vacation, was back on that day and she decided to put my dad ahead of schedule and headed over to check on his status and us. In the meantime, she told us to make sure to prop up his head. I grabbed another pillow and lifted up his head and instructed him on what I was doing. He was able to look at me and I knew he acknowledged me. When his nurse arrived, as she went to put the blood pressure cuff on my father, she identified herself to my father that she was there to check him. My dad let out a gasp and she called us all back to the bedside and said it was time. She moved away and let us gather around him.
It was such a horrible and beautiful thing all wrapped into one. I hated seeing my dad gasp like that, but I knew his suffering would soon be over. I was happy we were all able to be there as far as immediate family was concerned. We cried and hugged each other and took hold of my dad’s hand in his final moments. My baby sister took it particularly hard. I think she always thought my dad would somehow beat the cancer.
During his last few days, I experienced and saw some things that reaffirmed my belief in God and Jesus. I had been questioning if a God even existed. I can’t understand why good people have to suffer and why so many natural disasters had been striking various countries. Why does humanity suffer in such horrible ways and human loss have to be so tragic. Everyone should be able to exit this Earth peacefully, the same way we are brought into this world.
You see, the night before my dad passed my sisters and I were all gathered around my father’s bed keeping vigil and telling him it was alright to let go and be with our brother who had died in a car accident 23 years prior. My nephew who lives with my parents, and is very close with my father in particular, sat on the couch and snapped a photo unbeknownst to us. It wasn’t until shortly after my dad passed that he posted the photo on his Facebook page with a tribute to my father, his grandfather.
Before I noticed that particular photo, and minutes after my dad passed I was looking out the front door and in the yard sat a yellow canary, just sitting there in the wet grass. It was rainy and chilly out that Monday morning, but there that beautiful bird sat. Then two other yellow canaries joined it momentarily. I called over a couple of my sisters to look. We were amazed how that one canary just sat in the wet grass. Of course I tried to take a picture of it with my phone and the bird flew away as I went to snap the photo. I later googled the meaning of a yellow canary and its meaning was one of peace and harmony.
Another peculiar event that happened minutes after my dad passed was when my oldest sister was asked by my father’s nurse to get some clothing to dress my dad in so when the funeral home personnel came to pick up his body he was dressed properly, as he was only in a T-shirt and a Depends. My sister went up to my parents bedroom and as she bent over the dresser drawer to grab some clothing, she heard my father’s voice say to her, “Stop crying.” She immediately, answered him back saying, “Okay dad.” One of my other sisters was upstairs also and heard her talking to herself, so she walked into the bedroom to find my sister very shaken as she stated, “I just felt dad’s presence. I felt him hug me and speak to me.” My parent’s bedroom is directly above the living room. She was visibly shaken as she sat on the steps and told us of her experience. We were all in awe. My dad often told us not to cry when it was his time to go. She literally had goosebumps and felt nauseated, often a feeling people describe during supernatural occurrences.
After my father’s body was picked up and taken to the funeral home for cremation, I sat in the kitchen and was going through Facebook on my phone to see what my family members had posted about my father’s passing. A particular photo caught my attention on my nephew’s page. It wasn’t recognizable as my parent’s living room, as the photo appeared small on his Facebook wall. The thing that attracted my attention was a particularly bright light in the shape of a cross. As I clicked on the photo to make it larger, I immediately noticed my parent’s living room and the lamp that was in the middle of the fireplace mantle taking form as the shape of a cross, and at the same time conforming the shape of Jesus. It was the oddest thing. It looked as if it stood over us all and Jesus was reaching out his hands to comfort us and receive my father. At the top of the bright light appears a face of someone familiar, which to me, looks like the face of my 18-year-old brother.
I had chills from head to toe. I showed my sister and her husband who were also in the kitchen and they were taken aback. My nephew was in the kitchen too and I asked him when he took the photo and he said he took it the night before. I asked him if he noticed the light, but he never really paid attention to it until I pointed it out.
I then showed my mother and other sisters who were in the dining room, and at first my mother didn’t notice the light but when I zoomed in on it she almost fainted. I questioned if I should post the photo as I blog anonymously and few of my reader’s know my identity. I have however, decided to post the photo and you can take what you want from it and try to debunk it as you like, (as I tried) but to me, it is what it is. I do ask that if you somehow discover my identity that you please keep it to yourself out of respect for me. As I do enjoy blogging anonymously and would like to continue to do that as it is a great outlet and freeing experience. The photo has been in no way retouched or edited.
The next morning I woke up and needed a pair of socks which I had forgotten to pack in my haste. I reached over and grabbed a pair on the dresser to put on, and I looked at the side of the sock which read “I found Jesus.” My belief in God was restored and I have learned that through death that life still exists. There is some sort of after life as we exit this Earth. So you see, nothing really matters, unless it matters in the end.
Rest in peace my beautiful father (January 26, 1942-May 2, 2011) and brother (August 20, 1968-November 23, 1986.) You shall be missed but will always remain with us.
Tags: Cancer, Death, God/Jesus, Sisters, Stage IV Adenocarcinoma, Supernatural, Yellow Canary
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