This blog is becoming an obituary.
Right after midnight on September 14th, my husband's father died of a hematoma. He had just successfully finished his first round of radiation and chemo for advanced prostate cancer. He fell over Labor Day weekend and hit his head, refusing to sit in an emergency room for twelve hours "to get a band aid".
By the following Wednesday, he was disoriented and they rushed him into the ER. The first brain procedure worked. The second brain procedure didn't. My husband rushed down and never left his side in the ICU for three days and nights other than to eat or get coffee. My son and I joined him on Sunday after it seemed likely that he may not ever become conscious. Ultimately, all the tubes were removed and he passed away peacefully about twelve hours later with family surrounding him.
Being with someone when they are dying is like being with someone when they are giving birth. It's an extraordinary deliverance. A mystery. Most important, it's an honor to be with them as they enter into God's loving embrace.