"Let's rock & roll!"

We are unsure if Dad hears us but we're still talking to him as if he can.  We've been playing music for him. The other night my sister-in-law, Liz, played some music from her phone at Mom's and my request.  Mom listed some of Dad's favorite church songs.  When they started playing from Liz's phone, he said, "Noo, no, noooo!" but settled down when we played the Beatles.  Guess they boy band won over church this time.  ;)

Other songs we've been playing throughout the last day have been sung by family friend and Adam's and my wedding singer, Kim Kalman.  Hearing her sing some of the songs we used in our wedding and especially the song Dad and I walked down the aisle to had me reflecting back on our wedding day as I sit here next to Dad.

I always loved the way it felt to be wrapped up in Dad's arms.  I'm wearing his jacket now to try to imagine this feeling from the above picture again but, of course, it's not the same.

As I scrolled through these pictures from our wedding, I'm looking at this one with a whole new set of eyes.  Dad patiently waited down the hall at church while I went into the chapel to have a First Non-Look with Adam prior to the wedding mass.  Once I left the chapel, I returned to my Dad's side where we joined the rest of the family waiting in the narthex of the church to make the grand entrance into church before mass started.  Below is what I had written in our wedding blog posting about that moment.

I love that so many special moments were shared with both Dad and Adam (and many other loved ones on that magical May day).

As my friends, each family, and my cousins seated themselves, the butterflies increased..especially when I almost forgot to place the veil over my face but Heather quickly helped me with that.  I was so glad Dad was there for his calming presence kept me calm.  Before long, it was time to go join Adam!!  The doors opened and in we walked to the church.  It was so surreal seeing all the cherished smiling faces in the family and friends who had made the trip to join us.  My favorite view was Adam standing next to Fr. Jack though.  Yes, this was the best walk I ever took on the arm of the first man I loved guiding me to the man I love and get to spend the rest of my life doing just that!  How wonderful and I’m SO appreciative of this opportunity.  Praise God for guiding us to each other and knowing what He was doing all along…His plans for us are SO much better than anything we can even try to come up with on our own. 

Right as the doors opened at the back of the church, Dad said, "You ready to get this show on the road?"  I nodded, smiling, as he said, "Ok, let's rock and roll!"  Someone captured that very moment on film.

So in the spirit of rocking and rolling, we played some other songs for Dad these last couple days.  There was great comfort in listening to them so I'm sharing them in case they bring others comfort.  One of my favorites right now is the below rendition of One Voice by Wailin' Jennys.

One Voice
This version was sung by a friend and her two teen daughters.  Isn't it utterly beautiful?  When I first played it for Dad, while he was in the hospital, he teared up listening to it.


Surely
Be with Me, Lord
Footprints in the Sand (this is one of Dad's favorites)
Let There Be Peace on Earth
Only in God
Great Are You, Lord
Mighty to Save
Let the Door Swing Wide
You Raise Me Up
Color My World by Chicago - this is the song that Mom and Dad danced to on the night they met!
Wild Blue Yonder (US Air Force anthem)  
Taps
I Surrender

At some point today, Mom showed me a reflection from her daily reflections.  It was especially pertinent:  Do not rush past a struggle in search of some false or temporary comfort.  Rather, within the struggle, seek to discover the source of true comfort.  For it is here you will find courage for the present and hope for the future, and your pain will become meaningful.

The world cried with us on the day Dad mentally seemed to slip away from us...it rained, the winds blew, the trees bowed down from the weight of it all.  As my older and younger brother returned to the homestead in the following days, the sun peeked out from the clouds.  As Dad fell into a more peaceful rest away from the agitation, the moaning, the struggling to breathe and trying to pull his shirt down and away from his rapidly filling up with fluid chest, he no longer called out the family names of those who have passed and the sun shone more and more brilliantly in the blue sky.  This morning Msgr. Zemanick came to give Dad the Annointing of the Sick one more time and a light dusting of snow covered the houses and tops of the cars in spite of it being the middle of April and spring time.  Off and on throughout the day snowflakes blew in the wind.  Dad's legs began turning yellow and his hands and feet felt like ice no matter how many blankets or sheets we lay upon him.  His body is beginning to shut down....yet he's still here with us.

We had a moment of lightheartedness when Msgr. made a reference to family friend, Fr. Jack, as we discussed whether or not he would be allowed to concelebrate the funeral mass for Dad.  Msgr. called Fr. Jack an "educational priest" when he learned he was at Boston College.  I laughed inside as I thought of my colleagues and co-workers by that term of "educational priests" since that's not how I view them myself.  To me, they are friars or priests and that's it...maybe I've been in Catholic higher ed too long to not see them as "educational priests"...lol!

Today we found a small notepad and planner Dad had kept by his recliner.  In the planner, he had started writing down, "Good day", on days that he felt his health was under control alongside his appointments that were scheduled.  He also had a small yellow legal pad that listed the budget and estimated totals so Mom would not have to guess from month to month how much to put aside for bills.  As we looked over these materials, she sat on the edge of the bed, looking at us kids and said, "He was always thinking of me."  What a love story.

During dinner, I asked my Mom what her favorite memory of Dad is.  She shared stories of the early days when they first met and were getting to know one another.  Then, she said that recently, she and Dad had just enjoyed the small quiet moments of going out to the living room and relaxing after dinner.  She said it was so cozy and that they would just talk and talk about all that was going on in our lives and the lives of their grandchildren.  "Now, this house just feels so empty" she said.  💔

Yes, so many things are going to change without Dad's physical presence in our lives.  My twin said that only one time in the last 26 years did Dad miss a day of hunting with him.  The other time was in 2006 when Mark was in the State Police Academy.  Granted, the last few times Dad hunted with Mark, he stayed behind in the car and talked with Mark via walkie talkie or cell phone but the point is he was there.

So even though his body is still here and he can't really communicate with us in the way we are accustomed to, Dad is teaching us up until the end...to have patience and to be with each other in these hard moments.  I will never forget the lessons he instilled in us and taught us.  His body is strong in holding on and being with us in spite of not eating or drinking anything for the last three days (well, more than that as he was only taking in sips of two ounces or less in the previous days).  He seems peaceful at the moment with less agitation but is noticeably getting weaker and weaker.  His kidneys are shutting down, he is dehydrated, and this afternoon's nurse struggled to hear his heart beat as she took his blood pressure.  Yet Dad is teaching us to wait patiently and to sit in the pain, facing it head on, as we prepare for what is coming next in this journey for our family.

Something interesting that happened earlier today was that Brian had left the room while Patrick and I were talking on the large king-sized bed.  We heard Dad let out a longer and louder sigh than he had made in a while. 

Glancing up and looking over at Dad's hospital bed, and the empty wheelchair positioned by Dad's bed, both Patrick and I saw the wheelchair shift backward and forward by two inches. 

No one was near the wheelchair, Dad did not move it, and there was no draft or wind in the bedroom at all. 

Over the last 24 hours, we have been keeping round the clock vigil at Dad's bedside.  It isn't a planned out thing but rather is just an unspoken routine my brothers and I have fallen into over these last hours.  No one wants Dad in the room alone.  However, that moving wheelchair lets us know there is so much more to the eye than we can see here.

I know you're not supposed to turn to Google for researching things but I couldn't resist, tonight.  How does one go on for days in such a weakened state and without any nourishment?  Dad is engaging in the Lazarus reflex it seems...which is fitting given our recent Gospel reflections.

Come, Holy Spirit, and fill this place (and Dad) with your peace and presence.