My dad passed away on Saturday, June 1st. My sister and I were in the room. Our husbands were near by. Dan and I flew up to Great Falls, Montana, where he lived, the day before. We had known for 3 or 4 weeks that he was struggling, but until we landed on Friday, we didn't know the end was so close.When we saw him on Friday night, he still recognized us. He wasn't able to say much, but we knew he knew we were there. We spent a few hours with him on Friday night and several hours on Saturday. Most of the time he was in a morphine assisted sleep.
After we returned from getting some dinner on Saturday, at about 6:00pm, we could tell he wasn't doing well. We called my sister to make sure she was coming over. My dad was struggling to breathe. Dan and I both thought he might die, but I wasn't really prepared for it.
While my sister and I were sitting next to him, a thought came to my mind. I wondered whether he felt like he could leave. I asked my sister what she thought. She then told him that he was free to go, that she would be okay and that he didn't need to stay and protect and provide for her anymore. (My dad had fulfilled that role for her at different times in her life.)
After my sister made those comments he opened his eyes wider than I'd ever seen them opened. He looked up from right to left several times in a very startled manner. Then he sat up in bed, winced in pain two times and then fell back down on the bed.
I tried to find a pulse, but couldn't. He was gone.
Within 5 minutes of my sister telling him he was free to go, he was gone.
That was the first time I had ever been with someone when they passed or died. I had always expected it to be a peaceful, spirit filled experience. It wasn't like that. That troubled me. For the next few hours I wondered why he didn't smile, reach for the light, say the name of someone who had previously passed, etc. That was what I'd expected.
Later that night, when I was praying, I asked Heavenly Father what had happened. Why wasn't it a peace-filled passing? The answer I received was, "He didn't understand what was happening."
That made me feel sad. I wish I had told him what to expect. I think I didn't because I didn't want to offend him. He wasn't LDS and only sporadically attended any church. Even if I had offended him, that would have been better than "not understanding what was happening" when he was passing.
I made a mistake. I won't make that same one in the future. I'll worry more about helping increase understanding than possibly offending.
