While you can't ever really say that you're "lucky" in these situations, I was lucky during Dad's last decline. We had time to talk, to say goodbye. More importantly, I had time to think about what I needed to say. I was lucky to have friends like Brigid, and Stephany, who told me don't wait. Go see him. Right. NOW.
And friends like Atom Smasher, who left a comment here:
Whatever you think you shouldn't say.And Dad wasn't 31. We had the full measure of his years to share. Patrick's wife and children didn't have that. I hope that time eases the pain of their loss.
Whatever you think you won't say.
Whatever you think you can't say.
Say it.
You might think about clicking over to the memorial fund for Patrick's children.
The grave whispers to all of us that we must live, not just survive. That life is short; that every day is a gift. That as Proust said, death might come this evening. So hug your family, and dance with your wife. Turn up the music.
Time To Say Goodbye (Con te partirò) (Songwriters: Francesco Sartori, Lucio Quarantotto)
When I'm alone I dream of the horizon and words fail me.
There is no light in a room where there is no sun
and there is no sun if you're not here with me, with me.
From every window unfurls my heart the heart that you have won.
Into me you've poured the light,
the light that you found by the side of the road.
Time to say goodbye.
Places that I've never seen or experienced with you.
Now I shall, I'll sail with you upon ships across the seas,
seas that exist no more,
it's time to say goodbye.
When you're far away I dream of the horizon and words fail me.
And of course I know that you're with me, with me.
You, my moon, you are with me.
My sun, you're here with me with me, with me, with me.
Time to say goodbye.
Places that I've never seen or experienced with you.
Now I shall, I'll sail with you upon ships across the seas,
seas that exist no more,
I'll revive them with you.
I'll go with you upon ships across the seas,
seas that exist no more,
I'll revive them with you.
I'll go with you.
Rest in peace, Patrick Leister.
5 comments:
Posted on my site, too (per Brigid) and linked on Facebook.
My dad has less than a year, according to his doctors, and I now talk to him weekly. It's been a while since that happened, and I'm lucky enough to be able to do it.
Your advice is sound, friend.
You are good men.
My father passed away 10 years and one month ago, mainly due to Alzheimer's. He hadn't spoken a word since a visit I made for Fathers Day about a year and a half before, during which he was as lucid as he had been before his first onset several year before that. My mother had a near-fatal stroke during my weekly visit just shy of three years ago. (She died less than a week later, just after I and my sisters got to the hospital after a call from her doctors.) This is the meaning of bittersweet: I was there.
Thank you so much for responding to Brigid's "SOS" call.....I am still in amazement that you guys all reported to duty...no questions asked. What a great bond you guys have, please never take that for granted.
I sent your blog link to Christi, Pat's wife so she can see what's been written about Pat. This means more to her and I than I could ever TRY to explain. Thank you so much!!!
LB, I wish we could do more. This really is one of those moments when Life speaks in its Outdoors Voice.
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