I have been learning about death lately. I honestly never really thought there was much to it. I figured it was just "lights out" or that it was a terrible thing to see and that a dead body is creepy. That's about it. Tonight my family met with a Fairview Hospice Nurse named Jamie. He spent hours with us talking about my dad and explaining to us the dying process and the grief process. He listened. He heard our questions. He even fielded some anger from us. And graciously, he was able to identify for us where he believes my dad to be in this process. His guess..days to weeks.
And so now I have to take a long hard look at death and though I do not like the process, I am almost intrigued to learn that it IS a process. And as I learn I realize the hand of my Creator even in how He orchestrates the end of life. In a natural dying process, there is a beautiful rhythm and flow. There is order and mercy. Sadly, our heroic interventions can sometimes interrupt this order and make the process terrible for those we love. It pains me to be a spectator. I feel so helpless, always questioning if we are doing the right thing. I hurt for me, for my mom, for my kids, for my whole family. And yet, dad seems to be the one hurting the least. When my niece went to go back home tonight, dad hugged her and said, "It is only going to get better. I promise." Enough said for today.
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