Selectively Juggling

Hands down the hardest personal goal I’ve ever set for myself was to be the person holding my Dad’s hand, staying by his bedside as he slipped away from this life.. Thankfully in his last 4 days he’d been surrounded by mum and all his children & grandchildren. However as the last 4-days rolled on and life started to drain from his body, it became too confronting for everyone else, other than my youngest sister and I. We stayed by his bedside, day and night. We sang to him, told stories in half laughter, tears and hushed tones. I could see that my sister was struggling and told her that it was okay, okay for her to let go, go home to sleep and grieve privately with her husband and kids who all adored my dad. My personal goal was to love and honour my dad, ensure that he was afforded dignity beyond his final breath. My goal was to face my fears of death and loss, instead hold my dad, love my dad, and in doing so ensure he wasn’t alone in his last hours. My goal was to be strong, vulnerable, sensitive and raw, why? Because I knew I needed to. I knew he needed it. I knew he deserved that and so much more. In a quiet hospital room, I held vigil over my dad’s body. Alone, in deep contemplation and respect I walked with him as he took his final breaths. At 7:18am after he’d slipped away, and the sounds of a deep guttural cry left my lungs, I called the doctor in to confirm time of death. I didn’t know if I had the strength or skills needed to do this, all I knew is that I had the need and desire to love my dad. I had to ensure my mum had confidence and comfort knowing that her beloved husband, whom she’d known since 14years of age was being loved with deep reverence and grace. It was too much for her to stay overnight by his bedside, she was grieving deeply. It was my gift to both my parents. It was precious and something that I feel great privilege in doing.