My father's entered into a "declining state, the dying process" as hospice refers to it. They're wonderful. My father isn't in any pain and I'm grateful. They're here now 24 hrs., making sure he is pain free.

I was given this little booklet and on the last page, the following was written and felt soothed by the image that the words conjured up in my head:

GONE FROM MY SIGHT

I am standing upon the seashore. A ship at my side spreads her white sails to the morning breeze and starts for the blue ocean. She is an object of beauty and strength. I stand and watch her until at length she hangs like a speck of white cloud just where the sea and sky come to mingle with each other.

Then someone at my side says, “There, she is gone!”

“Gone where?”

Gone from my sight. That is all. She is just as large in mast and hull and spar as she was when she left my side and she is just as able to bear her load of living freight to her destined port.

Her diminished size is in me, not in her. And just at the moment when someone at my side says, “There, she is gone!” there are other eyes watching her coming, and other voices ready to take up the glad shout: “Here she comes!”

And that is dying.

Henry Van Dyke, Author

thanks JavaJunkie. It's beautiful. After 8 years I had my first Christmas without all the tears. Tears were shed but then I remembered the tears were for me because my husband is now out of pain and still "with me". I will still miss him physically but do talk to him often.

Once, a while ago when my mother was still driving, but I wanted to observe her driving, she followed me back, driving in her car, following me in mine.

We were driving on a freeway, actually. All of a sudden, of ALL THINGS, a hurse came between us. I could not see her car, and she could not see mine - even though we were only a car apart. I paniced, I was afraid. I could not see her! I was afraid we would be separated! How would she do, without me being able to see her? Soon, however, the hurse went around me, and our cars were beside each other again.

I have often thought how poignant that was - the hurse coming between mom and I, as death comes between us. Yet, she was "there" as much as I was "there."

The grave, the hurse, does not really separte us, despite the panic and fear we feel.

Here is another writing my St. Augustine which I don't know if you have heard or not.


IF YOU LOVE ME - DO NOT WEEP

Death is not important...

I have simply passed to the other side.

I am still myself...You are still yourself.

What we have always been, one for the other we are still.

You can call me by the name that you have always called me.

Speak to me as you have always done.

Don't use a different tone of voice.

Don't become solemn or sad.

Continue to laugh at all the things at which we always laughed together.

Pray! Smile!

Think of me and pray with me.

Make sure my name is spoken at home as it always was;

With no special inflection, with no trace of sadness.

Life is still filled with all its meaning.

It is still all that it has been.

Nothing has been lost.

Why should I be absent from your thoughts,

simply because I am absent from your view.

I am not far away, just on the other side.

Understand that all is well.

You will experience my heart again.

You will once more know that tenderness - now purified.

Wipe your tears.

I you love me, do not weep.



St. Augustine

My thoughts and prayers are with you, Sandy. I know that your father's death is close at hand and hope that you will keep the wonderful image from this story in your mind's eye and most especially, in your heart.

Much love to you and your family as you walk these last few steps with your dear father.

Peace.

SandyF
I just shared your ship story again...for about the 10th time. My husband's Grandfather died on Dec 23rd. He was 95, lived in his own home and died peacefully in his sleep. A gift in many ways, right? But my MIL, his daughter, was still saddened. I sent her your ship story and she was so thankful. So thank YOU. Your little story touched alot of people.
~Hannah

Sandy, I'm sorry for all you are going through right now. I hope you do get to get out a little today. Thank you also for the Gone from site post. I'm going to copy it and paint it on this wooden sign thing I have and take it to my husband's grave so anyone who may go there will read it and find some peace as I did this morning. Thank you. You are in my prayers.

Mae, you're so right. I've gotta clear those cobwebs outta my head.

We're on continuous care now for my father until his condition improves or stabilizes or something... There's a nurse here 24 hours a day (2 a day doing 12 hour shifts). They keep him clean and pain free and as they've told me, I'm as close with a cell phone as I would be if were in the next room, should anything happen where they may need me.

Sandra, you will see things come to gether in a positive way.
I think your going out is a good idea.Take a breathier from it all.You need to distance your self from the situation for a awhile.You will have a better chance to gather your thoughts.A part of you will be at the house but allow your self to have som time to your self.You will find change come over you once you get in the car and just do what you want, even if it is for a short time.You can have volunteers plus companions.Use the services when you feel the need.I am so lucky to have what I have.I try to spread my 2 days out as to not get it all at once and then have nothing and begin to feel trapped.

Thank you everyone for your thoughts. You've either been where I'm at now or are anticipating it, as I was not so long ago. Overall, hospice has been great but they still need to get their acts together on a lot of things. There's been way too much cross-communication and errors made because of this but overall, they're here to make sure my fathers pain-management and medication are under control. I couldn't do this without them, bottom line. This evening was the first time since Saturday that he opened his eyes and even ate a little. It was a gift, even if not an everlasting one. We'll see. One day at a time, right? I think I'm going to get out tomorrow and get some fresh air, even if it's from the car to Target, just to walk around amongst the living! Again, thank you for the heart-warming posts.

I LOVED that 'Gone From My Sight' story. That is a keeper and I believe it is just what happens. That is why no one ever dies alone - because someone is on the other side to take their hand.

When my Grandfather died last fall I sat and told him (he was unconsious) thank you for all he'd taught me (like how to waltz) and all the funny stuff I appreciated (like how he always gave my kids rootbeer barrel candy when he visited). I don't think he could "hear" me...and yet he knew. And I was comforted. And when he died, before they closed the casket I put a rootbeer barrel in his pocket.
Hugs to you.
~Hannah

Sandy, I know it is difficult to watch a parent die. I was w/Mom last month on her journey.

It is an emotional yet personal thing. I feel it was also a blessing. I had the chance to tell Mom everything I wanted to and needed to for not only her but me too. Now Mom is in heaven, disease free and happy.

May God wrap your family in his arms and give you strength at this time.

I'm so sorry, Sandy.

I do believe with all my heart that our loved ones are greeted on the other side, and are having a joyous reunion with other loved ones. Magnifying the joy is that they will never be apart again.

I have some personal anecdotes in this connect, but won't share them now. I'll only grieve with you at the parting, and encourage you that it's just temporary.

((((((((((Sandy)))))))))))
I just want you to know I am thinking of you.
There are no words I can find other than to say my heart goes out to you.

I too was given the same precious words by Hospice. I'm thankful that they are now with you as your father goes through his journey. God bless.

Sandra, there are no words.We are here for you.Thank god you have hospice with you.Not a time you should be alone with this.God bless

{{{{{{{{{HUGS}}}}}}}}}}}}}}