Life
is messy…it can be really messy. I've found the trick is to find the message in
the mess. Not always easy, but very doable and very rewarding. Why even
look for the message you ask? To find the gifts that are presented to you.
My
dad had significant health issues since my mom died in August 2005, but we were
able to keep him at home (with help) until a serious illness landed him in the
hospital in March 2012. That’s when the real nightmare began. In the months
that followed, Dad was in the emergency room eight times, admitted to the
hospital four times, and had lengthy stays in the local physical rehab facility
three times. We had to move him into a “memory support unit” in the local
assisted living home, sell the house and eventually bring in the hospice team
to help us all inch toward the final transition.
There
were many sleepless nights, oceans of tears and months of chest pains as I
watched my beloved father slip further into an ever-deepening well of illness.
My brother and sister, my husband and our children watched in horror
as prayers didn't seem to work, medicines failed and alternative methods did
not result in the outcome we so desperately wanted. It was very easy to feel
sorry for myself, believe that the situation was “unfair and unjust,” and allow
myself to be stuck in the circumstances that continued to reel out of my
control. Hours spent pacing hospital hallways, speaking to medical personnel
and sorting through mountains of paperwork only added to the duress I felt. I
decided to look at the situation a different way.
If
Life is working for me (as I believe it is), then what were the messages in
this mess with Dad’s health? What gifts could I uncover if I just looked? Here
are three concepts I didn't expect to discover in this experience:
While it’s prudent to be
mindful of the past and ready to step into the future, the real beauty of life
is in the NOW. I learned this while spending time with my
dad just as he was at any given moment. No, Dad wasn't the brilliant
businessman I’d grown up with, but he became softer and (depending on where he
was in his process) utterly charming, funny and quite witty. He was usually the
darling of whatever medical team had charge of him at the moment due to his
sweet nature and sly smile...that was
not the dad I had known. This was a different version of Dad and when I could
release my expectation of what Dad “should be” or worse, what he “was going to
be” I allowed myself to thoroughly enjoy him in the moment as the beautiful
being he was.
Everyone has their own
unique journey. Although I would not have chosen this path
for my dad, I came to understand that it’s far more loving to respect it than
fight it. Yes, I worked with my family to ensure Dad had excellent care and the
most optimum healing environment possible. And we worked with his care team to
manage his options, but I learned to allow Dad to experience his journey
without trying to “fix it” or make it the experience I wanted it to be. I learned
to respect the creative force in my father and trust he created the “perfect
experience” for him. It was my job to create my own perfect experience in this
situation.
Each individual plays a part
in the life of everyone they touch. I came to understand that
throughout his life, Dad touched many more people than I realized. I know how
“important” he was to us growing up. He was a WWII hero, his business fed our
family, he was active in local government, served on volunteer boards and
supported charities. But that was before. How he orchestrated things during
this time amazed me. His critical health situation brought my brother, sister
and I closer. My husband and I learned to support and love each other on a
level I never knew existed. Dad enriched the lives of dozens of people who
reached out to us to offer assistance or to tell us stories that showed us a side
of him we never knew. His caregivers, nurses and doctors said seeing Dad was the
“highlight of their day” even as his health declined. He continued to touch
everyone he came in contact with or who know him through us, until he died
peacefully on October 26, 2013. Amazing.
I
guess the real message for me is about the energy of life that lives in each of
us. And how that energy continues to evolve throughout the human life cycle in
ways I never truly understood. I see how inter-related we all are and how only
through the eyes of love can we really see the truth of any situation. Most
importantly, I realize the true essence of my dad, and all of us, shines
through illness, pain and even impending death. What a message. Thanks, Dad….
