End of an Era
End of an Era
Sitting by his bedside looking at all those hoses and monitors and other medical equipment, I am baffled at what they all do. They do keep him alive that much I know.
He is lying there sleeping and his chest is heaving. His breath is shallow and struggling. Then all at once he takes in a long breath, longer than the others his chest rises and stops. Ever so slowly the air goes out, and the alarms start sounding. He has passed on.
There wasn’t any great moment of clarity, no opening of the eyes, and no last words of wisdom. He was simply gone in silence. Nurses are fussing about but they know he is gone now. They turn off the machines and leave the room in silence.
I hold his hand, and feel for a pulse but there isn’t one. I look into his face and see if there is something different but he looks the same. He looks peaceful though, and at rest. His face is impassive no smile no sadness just there.
As I hold his hand the tears begin to flow. Slowly at first just a trickle, then without warning I begin to sob. I fall to the floor with my head on his legs and sob. He is gone, no longer with us in this world. He was my world my idol my mentor, and now he is gone.
He is walking with God, this I am sure of. As I sob at his side, he at that moment is most likely in Gods care. I begin to realize this and I begin to feel relief. Knowing his suffering is done, knowing he is in a better place I feel almost giddy, and begin to feel lightness and peace.
For two years I sat by his bedside watching him waste away. Not being able to speak or move, only look at me with his eyes. In those eyes I see love and gentleness. I see tears flow there sometimes when I talk to him about the days gone by and what he meant to me, meant to all of us. I dab at them to remove them with a tissue.
His life was spent as a farmer nothing more. He was never a Veterinarian as he once said he could have been. He wasn’t the great basketball coach his college coach said he should be. He was a farmer and a father and a grandfather, and he was the finest there ever was.
An era has ended; he is the last of his generation, the last of his kind. Will I be able to keep the torch he passed on or will it flame die with him. Time will tell. He was the family patriarch, and now he is gone. How will we carry on?
Sitting by his bedside looking at all those hoses and monitors and other medical equipment, I am baffled at what they all do. They do keep him alive that much I know.
He is lying there sleeping and his chest is heaving. His breath is shallow and struggling. Then all at once he takes in a long breath, longer than the others his chest rises and stops. Ever so slowly the air goes out, and the alarms start sounding. He has passed on.
There wasn’t any great moment of clarity, no opening of the eyes, and no last words of wisdom. He was simply gone in silence. Nurses are fussing about but they know he is gone now. They turn off the machines and leave the room in silence.
I hold his hand, and feel for a pulse but there isn’t one. I look into his face and see if there is something different but he looks the same. He looks peaceful though, and at rest. His face is impassive no smile no sadness just there.
As I hold his hand the tears begin to flow. Slowly at first just a trickle, then without warning I begin to sob. I fall to the floor with my head on his legs and sob. He is gone, no longer with us in this world. He was my world my idol my mentor, and now he is gone.
He is walking with God, this I am sure of. As I sob at his side, he at that moment is most likely in Gods care. I begin to realize this and I begin to feel relief. Knowing his suffering is done, knowing he is in a better place I feel almost giddy, and begin to feel lightness and peace.
For two years I sat by his bedside watching him waste away. Not being able to speak or move, only look at me with his eyes. In those eyes I see love and gentleness. I see tears flow there sometimes when I talk to him about the days gone by and what he meant to me, meant to all of us. I dab at them to remove them with a tissue.
His life was spent as a farmer nothing more. He was never a Veterinarian as he once said he could have been. He wasn’t the great basketball coach his college coach said he should be. He was a farmer and a father and a grandfather, and he was the finest there ever was.
An era has ended; he is the last of his generation, the last of his kind. Will I be able to keep the torch he passed on or will it flame die with him. Time will tell. He was the family patriarch, and now he is gone. How will we carry on?
