Bon Voyage, Dad 💜
And he's off . . .
Oh beauties,
My dear gorgeous dad departed on his great adventure Tuesday morning. I last saw him on FaceTime two days previously, and he was the picture of peace. Really sublime.
I’m not sure how I feel: relieved, excited (for him). Sad that I’ll never be with his physical presence or get to hold his hand and FaceTime with him. He was 97 years old. His mind/memory had been on a serious walkabout for the last six-plus years. Lost his eyesight. On hospice for three years eight months. Shocked the nurses and docs at how long he hung in there.
There was frustration, impatience, and grief. Once I accepted him for where he was, and committed to being IN IT with him every step of the way, I loved every moment of what could have been a grueling four years. By leaning in to his end of life, he gifted me one of the most beautiful, loving, and fascinating times of my life. I went from someone with a well-nurtured fear of death, to someone who began seeing death (and the actual dying part, which I was most afraid of) as a great adventure—mysterious but not scary.
My dad taught me to face his end-of-life by being so loving. He’d lost his mind and his ego. There was no Daddy figure to impress. This stripped me of my ego in his presence, nothing to prove. Just two human spirits hanging out basking in each other’s love-vibe.
When I visited him in Scottsdale, we listened to Mozart operas, and talked about the pasta, lamb chops and chocolate ice cream we’d have for dinner. He’d lost a lot of his language faculties; he didn’t seem to have a sense of who he was (nor did he seem to care), and his memory bank of lived experiences—all of them—appeared to be erased. I decided if he didn’t care, neither did I. (Tip: do not personalize this process). Instead, my dad had this impressionistic way of communicating and capturing the essence of his life. It was fascinating.
There was a lot of marveling about the amazing life we’d shared as a family. There’s a 3-minute-ish audio clip here: Resting Up for the Next Adventure.
My dad perked up on the last day I saw him in person, last September, here: Last time I saw his beautiful face (1 min video).
For those of you who have been with me through my dad’s departure runway, thank you. I felt you. If you’re on your own runway experience, I’m with you. The experience might not be ideal, or what you had hoped or imagined; but you don’t have to be afraid. You also don’t have to like what’s going down, or force-feed yourself grateitude or be strong.
Fall apart, shake a fist or two, be sad as hell, AND— I invite you to turn toward the experience and the person; to watch, look, listen, be willing to entertain new ideas about what Life, Death and the in-between might be. When our loved ones “deteriorate” physically we tend to disregard their aliveness. Be willing to meet your loved one where they are—dance with their aliveness. 💃🏿🕺🏻See what’s there.
I’ll probably write more about my dad and his unusual life, but for now: Thanks for everything Dad, Love Tatyanechka 💜
