Dad’s Relocation

This afternoon, we had my dad transported to the hospice IPU (In-patient Unit). It is extremely unlikely that he’ll ever be back in his home again. So far as anyone can be certain, this is it. The last stop in his life.

Sure, I’ve been shedding a few tears. Not a lot, though. Most of the tears were shed a while ago when it was clear that the person we were taking care of wasn’t my dad anymore. There’s still some residual sadness yet to go through, but for the most part it’s just transitory. I’ve never been all that great with goodbyes. Shoot, when I left the photo studio, I teared up. But, I think, I needed that to feel that I had closure. I’ve pretty much already had that closure with my dad. This past weekend, we all sensed that he’d entered the stretch run, and we all took some time to say our goodbyes. That was a tough day.

Today, for me, it’s not so much sadness, but just the goodbye thing. I mean, he’s been my dad all of my life, and he’s always been there when I needed him. I just hope that in these last couple of years I’ve shown to him that I learned the lessons that he so ably taught by example. I tried to be there for him (and the rest of my family) just as much as I was able.

So, a few hours ago he was wheeled out of his home by the EMS attendants, and I don’t think he knew. In a way, I’m saying the goodbye for him. He isn’t able to say goodbye to his life, so I need to help to do it for him. And yet I’m not all that sad. He did OK in my book. He has been a good dad. And even though he’s not yet dead, you can feel that it’s different in the house. He’s not coming back, and you can sense it. The house feels emptier.