Dad and I and Holding Hands
This is my entry to witsandnuts’ blogoversary / birthday contest.
Sally: Happiness is playing the drum in your own school band. Charlie Brown: And happiness is walking hand-in-hand. (From the Musical: You're A Good Man, Charlie Brown)
I think the last time I made someone feel better, happier in a major way was when my dad fell ill several years ago and I decided to take a month’s worth of leave from work to take care of him. I held his hand as he took his first round of chemo bravely, massaged his back and feet on days when he couldn’t move around so he wouldn’t get bed sores, brought him ice chips, read him news and articles that I knew would catch his interest (watching TV made him dizzy), helped the nurse bathe him and took care of ensuring that his medications and supplements were given to him on time. I would watch Papa round-the-clock (I was the only sibling who was able to take a long leave from work and my mom had to stay away from the hospital because of a flu that came at a bad time), leave the hospital to take a bath and pack a new set of things and go to the hospital again to be with him.
Looking back, I am very happy to have spent the last month of Papa’s life with him. He was mostly intubated and hooked up to an oxygen tank but on days when he wasn’t on the respirator, he would tell me stories and share his thoughts with me. Later, when he absolutely couldn’t speak, we would converse using a pen and paper. Up until the last minute before he passed away, he was still lucid, his mind very active. An hour before he died, I remember asking the nurse where my dad’s soap was (we were cleaning him up) because I couldn’t find it. My dad weakly scribbled something on the paper beside him and the nurse read it out loud to me: it was about the location of the missing soap. Apparently, he still could hear everything and knew where people placed things even when he was literally on the verge of death.
He wasn’t very good at verbalizing his emotions in the first place and all the tubes running out of his body hampered any semblance of verbal communication we could have had so Papa and I just held hands most of the time (with me mostly praying). But I knew I made his last few days better, happier from the lopsided smile I got from him every time I entered his hospital room with a fresh set of reading materials, from the misty-eyed look of gratification after a back rub, and from a small squeeze of happiness in my hand after rearranging the numerous tubes surrounding his body and his hospital bed.
I take comfort in the fact that he is in a place now where he is free of any physical pain and suffering and I look back with a little bit of assurance that I somehow made him feel comfortable and happy during his last few days with us.
witsandnuts’ birthday giveaway rule is to make both somebody you know AND a stranger happy. this is a post about me and my dad so the other part about the stranger…it’s a surprise. the recipient has yet to know. she isn’t technically a stranger - we know each other (and are friends) but only virtually. hope what i have yet to give brings her happiness and brightens up her day. 
July 18th, 2009 at 5:47 pm
Waaaah, you made me cry. We did almost the same thing. I took my longest leave from work, too in 2003 to take care of my late grandmother. She had chemotherapy, battling the cancer of the breast. Every minute was well-spent then.
Naku, who is that virtual friend kaya? =) Thanks for joining!
July 19th, 2009 at 12:25 am
glenda, your post made me cry aawww
July 19th, 2009 at 10:19 am
What a touching story. Certainly a great way to give happiness to someone. I’m sure you and your papa made each other happy.
July 19th, 2009 at 2:38 pm
nice story glenda! i can relate with the parent being sick. i hope i would also have the chance to take care of my mother the way you did.
July 20th, 2009 at 12:35 am
G..you made me cry here. wuahhhh!!
July 20th, 2009 at 4:57 pm
a very touching story glenda! you made me cry here too.
July 20th, 2009 at 7:52 pm
{{{hugs}}} glenda, thanks for sharing the story, i am so touched.
July 20th, 2009 at 11:06 pm
Very touching, it reminded me of what I went through with my late Dad, months before he passed away.
July 21st, 2009 at 12:14 am
i never grew up with a daddy, but your story touched me even though i can not relate. what a sweet relationship glenda you must have had with your papa. you are so blessed. ~Amanda
p.s. i got the package and I will treasure it always…so much so that i don’t even want to use any of it. absolutely gorgeous - - the handmade notecards. thanks. you are one in a million!!!!
July 21st, 2009 at 10:54 am
Wow! Thanks for sharing.
My parents will always have a soft spot for me. Though we don’t usually agree on a lot of things (esp my mom, my dad and I almost always agree), and we don’t really show it, we all know that we have each other’s back.
July 22nd, 2009 at 9:55 am
aww sorry for making you guys cry. i guess it’s really heart-wrenching to see ourselves become the parents and our parents become our children when they get sick =)
July 22nd, 2009 at 4:24 pm
I recently lost mommy, but we did let go with a light heart as she wanted to be with papa
I haven’t had the chance to take care of her, because I was based far and work took me away a lot. Mommy and I had a long and very caring talk the day before she decided to slip away and meet papa on Father’s Day, and I know in my heart that day made up for my being away.
Surely, parents and children shouldn’t forget that theirs is lifetime relationship
glenda: I’m sure our parents, wherever they are, are still watching over us. While us kids, we try to live our lives the way our parents taught us to. Yes, it really is a lifetime relationship.
July 25th, 2009 at 10:08 am
glends, this post was so moving. i admire you for your emotional and physical strength at that time