I've got about 3-4 posts percolating in me and sooner or later I'll get 'em down. Just to jog my memory I'll put a prospective title for them here: "Big Love" and "Big Tub", I think there was another but it is escaping me just now. I'm concerned that this one I'm going to write about now would escape me so that is why I decide to get it down. I'll give you a warning - this isn't the most cheery of posts, but I wanted to share it anyway - so here goes.
I've been having dreams of Dad for a while now. It is nice to see him of course and most of the time some part of me in the dream becomes aware that I'm dreaming of my Dad who is dead and this is a dream about him. Well last night I had one that really seemed to be saying something to me - trying to help me come to terms in some small measure with what has come to pass.
In the dream it was the present time and I was at the sea shore - back from it a bit - up on the grass but watching the surf and enjoying the view. I was hanging out with some friends. Dad came along and joined us. He sorta limped into the scene. He looked very tired and frail. We talked about how the treatments were coming along and he was so resigned and defeated. He explained in detail how awful he felt and how he was getting weaker and weaker, how his skin just seemed to be getting thinner and thinner. How his veins hurt and seemed to be turning grey. It pained him to describe his decline. He wasn't whining, he was sorta matter of fact about it but he sounded depressed. Not himself. A bit of commotion from the sea turned both of our attentions from the conversation and we looked out to sea to see a mythically huge wave surging up out of the depths. Surfers were out there but it seemed none would try to catch this beautiful and powerful pulse but in one decisive moment a surfer turned and dropped into the maw of what seemed a certain disaster. But instead with poise he rocketed down the face of the huge wave and carved one long graceful arc across the face of the wave and made it to the safety of the channel. All the people on the beach stood and cheered and applauded as the surfer finished his surfing... walking out of the water and not considering any feeble follow up to that beautiful finish.
In my dream I did not turn back to Dad's description of his on going battle with cancer, but instead began reflecting about what had actually happened. How he seemed strong and determined and beautiful in spirit up until the week before he died. Even possessed those qualities in his last hours. I thought that although I miss him so and wish he was here I can't wish that he lingered in grave illness. And I recalled how Adem described the way Dad went with a metaphor of a guillotine that was held by a rope with a candle burning under it. That the time was always going to be THE time, but in the end it would be swift. And that was the best way... because Dad would not have wanted to be the man in my dream - instead he would have liked to be strong, beautiful, and dignified to the end. Why mess around with little ripples when he'd had the chance to dance in the ocean of life with passion and grace?
3 comments:
I had talked with dad about dieing years ago after he had walked his father inlaw to the other side . he said he did not wish a prolong hosbital stay . I told him if it was up to me I wold take him for the float of floats down the yukon river while on his death bed he could see the world. He asked what if Im still alive when we got to the sea ? I smiled and said I let him float off. I think he knew it was coming he just didnt want it prolonged so he played its going to be fine till the end.
You may not remember this because you were a wee little fella, but when we lived in Hawaii we were befriended by some Samoan folks (pretty sure it was Samoan and not Hawaiian natives). Anyway they had this big tropical compound an an old patriarch ruling the whole show ("Red" was his nickname). I recall something like him saying that when he died we had to put him in his canoe and send him out to sea with his prized possessions. I'm sure Dad knew about that and probably gave it a passing thought when you had that conversation. Even though there were definitely some rough spots there in the final hours as you know - I think with the confidence he had in where he was going, where he had been, and what he was leaving behind, and a little help from the doctor's cocktail he went out onto a smooth sea indeed...wafting out on the gentlest of currents.
Gimme some dreams!!!!!!!!!!!!!
as I said in a comment to Adem I avoid thinking about Dad. I think this is why I don't have any Dad dreams. Though Adem says he isn't dreaming dad dreams either. When my friend Todd died I had several vivid dreams that felt real and were a part of saying good bye. Dad was a lot more comfortable in the hospital than he had been just prior without morphine(I gather).
Though not there at the very end, I remember sitting across from Sherry in the wee hours when he stopped struggling so hard for each breath. began wafting on the gentle current. Really it was as Robert and everyone says, much better than having an extra three months with slow and painful disintergration.
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