papa

and the nurse comes in to turn off the noise

that steady tone

that signals the end

that soon will be upon us

that squiggly line now flat

that sadness now real

that sorrow heavy

that tsunami of emotions as he takes his last breath

The closeness of three generations, now becomes the grief of two generations.

His life was long, with some deception.

he and his red truck made such accomplishments

his gruff exterior melted the first time his then baby granddaughter needed comforting.

such a long past he had, and yet his death only took a week.

Day One:

He called and asked "I know you'll be here tomorrow, but can you come today?"

A request not heard in the past two years, we say "of course"

...

We arrive all seems normal, but then

but then,..

He tells us of the past,

of past sorrows,

of the past secrets,

and then he tells of present appreciation.

and then he tells of the pain

a pain so incredibly unbearable that a failed suicide caused the phone call.

and we listened, and we jotted down notes of things so important we did not want to lose them

and we convinced him, and took him to the hospital,

Day Two:

Without our knowledge they shove tubes down his throat into his lungs

and poke and prod

and test after test after test after test

many many things not right

and they find lumps in his lungs

and heart barely beating, his legs full of water,..

and I remember 4 weeks ago, he dug a 3foot by 3 foot by 3foot grave for one of his large dogs in Caliche-dirt of the desert, dirt that is hard, hard like concrete.

Day three:

We show the hospital his wishes on death

"no extra ordinary efforts"

"no tubes down throat"

and the lung specialist hears nothing and looks at the lungs

and the heart specialist hears nothing and looks at the heart

and the others look after other organs

they all want to keep their specialty-organ alive,

they so focused on their specialty

treat the organ and not the person

they do not talk to each other about the person

they see only one organ and not the person

not caring of his wishes

not caring that the person is loved

not feeling his readiness for peace they poke and prod.

Day Four:

He fully coherent, demands the tube be removed from his throat.

His great grandchildren visit him for a scant 40 minutes

His grandchildren visit and they talk for most of the day

Day Five:

Fully coherent but tired, I, the son-in-law,

talk with him about death

talk with him about regrets

talk with him about thankfulness

and then he flashes a grin,..

a smile,..

a smile of a 16 yr old boy about to tell his friends he touched a bare breast

and tells me,....

that the night nurse,.....

"is a real looker"

Day Six:

When he was coherent he would say, "why is there a white owl in that closet"

he would drop back to sleep

and when he would awaken again, he would ask us if we saw the white owl, and why is it in the closet of this hospital.

with no logical explanation for him, we said "yes we see it, and it is there to watch over and protect you"

The heart and lung monitor started to jump erratic

and he was a little scared

and wished for parts of the past to have never happened

Day Seven:

Morphine filled his veins, so he was calm and painless, perhaps for the first time in his life he had no pain, no sorrows, no fears.

in the room was his granddaughter, his daughter, and his son-in-law

and the nurse comes in to turn off the noise

that steady tone

that signals the end

that squiggly line now flat

that sadness now real

that sorrow so very heavy

that tsunami of emotions felt by the two generations as the last generation begins his final rest.