Our whole family feels a deep sense of peace about what transpired on Monday. Incredibly, dad never really went into a coma, as all the medical professionals predicted he would due to such a high level of poisons in his system from kidney failure. Of course, true to his nature, he had a very strong "constitution!" As a family we took turns providing 24-hour care during the last week, managing to keep him comfortable and relatively pain-free right to the very end, with the wonderful help of Roxanole (Morphine Sulfate) and other recommendations provided by the primary hospice nurse. (We had hospice care at his home for the last ten days.) Though quite weak and bed-fast the last three days and nights, he was able to maintain enough alertness to interact with us - and acknowledge the love and support he was getting from good friends who stopped by. Throughout, Dad never really complained about anything.
We (dad's sister Mary Ellen - a retired nurse, my brother Verle, and I) took turns providing the primary care so that we could maintain good energy levels. Dad's sister Miriam, and brother Allen also hung out at the house each day to help with this and that. Verle did the hard slog of night shift all week and I relieved him of that Friday and Saturday night, and then left for home Sunday evening, just 5 or 6 hours prior to his death - I stayed around most of the weekend, and busied myself sorting through things in mom's desk, and alternated with interactions with Dad - while Verle continued to sort through a remaining batch of papers at Dad's desk that Dad was too weak to deal with. I observed signs and symptoms of impending death, and anticipated this possibly happening on Sunday evening. However, Dad's heart didn't really wind down until Verle was sleeping in the room next to his in the middle of the night. That's the short version.
However, Verle did have a very important personal experience surrounding Dad's home-going (sometime near or shortly after 3:30 AM, within a half hour of his death.) Verle told me later on Monday about this. Near that time my brother suddenly intuited the presence of a strong negative "evil force" that tried to invade the room. Simultaneously, he observed Dad make a visual negative reaction to "something" which he too must have seen -- at the very point when Dad was at his weakest, from a physical point of view. (Of course, by then he could no longer speak.) Verle immediately banished this force which he had sensed, with all the power and authority in Christ that he could appropriate -- and the "atmosphere" cleared forthwith.
Verle laid down again in the next room, but shortly thereafter Dad "slipped away" as Verle thought he heard Dad's respirations slow then stop. Yes, Dad was gone when Verle got up once again to check, so he threw his hands toward heaven, "releasing" Dad to the angels in a spirit of quiet victorious praise.
Dad went extremely peaceful at an estimated time of 4 AM -- a point when a couple of his close friends (told me when I called them several hours later) had been awake and praying for him at that time - Dad's situation laying heavy on their minds and hearts!
SO, THANKS SO MUCH to all of you who helped "stand in the gap" - keeping vigilant attention at your own homes - interceeding on his behalf and protecting his peace when he found himself in that very thin space between earth and heaven.
It seems like such a short time since we went through all this with my mother, Edna, after she died on April 25 of this year. If you know my father Dean and would like to be involved but simply can't join us in person this weekend for "The Great Celebration" of his life, this website I set up today (its actually called a "blog", short for "weblog") offers a significant opportunity:
This shall become an ongoing "work-in-progress" -- where my own plus a number of other family members' and friends' stories, reflections, and experiences surrounding dad's life are gradually being centralized here as a witness to the impact he made in people's lives.
If you got fairly well-acquainted with my father, you will most likely want to bookmark this website and check back from time to time, since I anticipate that others will continue to post their recollections. Specifically, in that regard, I encourage you to think about sharing something of your own experience of Dean, or how he made a difference in your life and perspective. Some of the postings here will likely be read on Sunday at his memorial service.
It's also OK to send something via my primary email address that I check often, at Clair.Hochstetler@gmail.com -- and if you would rather not have it posted on this blog, or read publicly, just say so. (I will ask for permission to "publish" here, in any case, if it seems to contain sentiments or facts of a more personal nature.)
In grace and gratitude,
Clair
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
No comments:
Post a Comment