There are few things as beautiful as the foothills of the Blue Ridge in early Fall. We drove thru Middleburg and Culpepper, Virginia late last evening on the way back to the flatlands and tobacco barns of Kinston.
For the most part we rhode in silence. Taking in the hint of orange,red, and yellow in the trees. The blue sky of the mountains in the distance. We stopped in Culpepper to get a drink. The air was unusually brisk. There was a pumpkin patch next to the gas station. The celebration of Fall is apparent everywhere. I breathed in deeply. So thankful for Gods glory. So happy to be out of the stale hospital air.
My mind was flooded with memories of Virginia in the Fall. Flag football games in our neighborhood. The objective, not so much about football, but rather diving into piles of freshly raked leaves. Going to my home church to pick out pumpkins--a tradition my Dad continued with my children until they were in middle school. My first boy-girl party in 6th grade. Spin the bottle. The excitement and innocence of life. I haven't lived in Virginia for over 30 years. It's a melancholy feeling to think my Virginia legacy will end in a hospital room.
The reality of life and death hit us in the face yesterday morning. My Dad helped me sketch out his obituary. Unlike my North Carolinian Mother my Dad was precise in his directions. A proud 5th generation Virginian he made sure that I included his induction to the Jefferson Society at UVA in 2005. He told us to never leave flowers on his grave. He wants rocks. A Jewish tradition he loves. He gave my brother and me access codes to additional bank accounts. He gave us the names of friends he wanted notified when he dies but not before. He had us go through his things in his apartment at the assistant living community he has called home for 3 years.
He noticed this weekend that Carrington, our youngest daughter, had an iPhone with a cracked screen. He looked at me, picked up his iPhone and then wrote on a piece of paper "Mine is blue. I think Carrington would like it. Text her and see if she wants it". He talked endlessly about how beautiful Olivia, our oldest, is. About her soft demeanor. How sad he is that he will not see her marry. He proudly told the nurses how smart ( he's truly a genius) his 6th grade handsome grandson Sam is (my nephew). He spoke proudly of how much Sam looks like Marc and my mother. He took great pleasure in telling me "That gorgeous red head granddaughter of mine is your payback. She's all you. You'll survive her, I promise".
He sat without the BIPAP machine, which is keeping him alive, for a good while. He happily sipped a milkshake and told us how he wants the next coming days orchestrated. He wants no one at his funeral but his children, grandchildren, son & daughter in law. He told us to call Nancy at the church to set the service up in the Chapel. He wants no music. He wants us to go to Clyde's in Leesburg as a family to celebrate both he and my Mother.
My Dad is on life support for a few more days. There's something so unsettling about preparing someone to die. Especially someone who has all their faculties. With Mother the Parkinson's had taken her mind. She was so very ill. In so much pain. We wanted her to die. We wanted the suffering to end. My Dad is as coherent and alert as I am. He's not in pain. He just has lungs that have failed him. It seems unimaginable to orchestrate his death. {And} yet that's what he wants. I just can't wrap my head around it.
The past five days have been wonderfully sad. My husband has talked with lawyers, bankers, the DMV, the assisted living people. He's located stocks, bonds, retirement benefits, car titles, cellphone contracts, cable bills, assisted living contracts. He seamlessly did what my brother and I could not mentally do. My sister in law vigilantly listened to the different teams of doctors that came in and out. She deciphered medical jargon with great precision. Marc and I candidly talked with the Paladin (end of life doctors)care team with our Dad. George? Well, he soaked in every last coherent moment with his family. He flirted with his nurses. He freely gave us his love and adoration. He savored the tastes of milkshakes and martini's. He took communion and prayed with his children.
Tomorrow is another day. Another gift of life. I hope that I never forget just how precious time is. I hate this. Yet I'm so thankful that The Lord has given us this gift of time. Hug your loved ones close. Tell them that you love them even when you're angry. Don't withhold the love that God gives us so freely. Praise Him. Thank Him for one more day.
"I know the LORD is always with me. I will not be shaken, for he is right beside me. "-Psalm 16:8
