The first few days in the hospital I was told by my father’s doctor that he had experienced several more strokes. One of the strokes required 4-5 nurses to hold him down. He became very physical during these episodes and on this particular one he managed to break one of the nurse’s glasses. They had him in a room directly outside the nurses’ station where they could monitor him 24/7. There was also a nurse brought in from Hospice to sit vigilantly outside his bedroom door. He continued to make attempts at trying to get out of bed, but his body defied him. Because of these attempts he was a tremendous fall risk.
On the Sunday before my sister’s arrival I spent 6 hours with Dad sitting beside him and whispering in his ear all my love for him. I told him that I knew he was dying and that I had accepted that he had given up. It was because of this knowledge I asked him if he was ready to accept Jesus into his life and he told me yes. I remember back in August of 2006 sitting outside on the patio with him having the discussion about life after death and it was at that time that he told me he did not believe in such a thing. I turned to him and said then you must not believe in Jesus. He expressed his doubts to me.
I was so happy on that day of Sunday that he finally accepted Jesus into his life. I wondered as I sat next to him, holding his hand if it was because he was afraid of dying, or was it because he finally accepted that death was right around the corner. Nevertheless, I knew on that day that my father was blessed by our Lord and that my father would be going to heaven and would be joining his son, my brother. I no longer was afraid and I too accepted my father’s dying. It also was comforting knowing that my sister was coming and would help me stay strong when I needed it. I knew it was going to be hard for her to accept what she was about to see in our father, but I also knew that I had prepared her the best I could about his dying. I prayed that by doing so would make it a tiny bit easier for her to see him in the condition that he was in.
The afternoon of October 1, 2007 I picked my sister up at the airport. We drove that evening to the hospital and when we arrived they had our father sitting up in a chair and they were attempting to give him medications. Just as we were walking in the door he was hollering at the top of his lungs for them to stop and then he hollered “please respect my dignity, no more pills”. It was at that point I knew and so did my sister they needed to stop forcing anything and everything into his mouth and our intention was to speak with the doctor first thing the next day.
I left my sister alone to visit with our father. It was very difficult for her seeing him this way. It had only been several months since she had last seen him and it was very clear that he was dying. Our father was a tall man of about 6’1” and weighted at his healthiest weight 180 lbs. He now maybe weighted 150 lbs. His rib cage was protruding to the point you would think it was going to rip through his skin. His arms were covered in bruises from his many bumps and falls prior to entering the hospital, as well as I’m sure from the nurses having to hold him down. His eyes remained closed, just as they had been the day he first entered the hospital. At times when he attempted to open his eyes, it was as if he was blind. His eyes were glassy and no movement. God love him, he still did his best at visiting with my sister and I. He still continued to show his strength of a father that we always knew him as. He was still “my rock”. Our visit with our father that evening wasn’t very long, maybe an hour. He got tired easily and my sister and I were both exhausted mentally and I know my sister was physically, as well.
The next day we got to the hospital in the morning and were fortunate to get to meet with the doctor whom we instructed that all medications for our father were to be stopped. He agreed and it was now determined nothing in the mouth, unless of course he accepted it or wanted it. We all tried our best to get our father to drink a little water, eat a little food, but he slowly refused it all. Each day that we visited we saw him become weaker and frailer. On Saturday, October 6th my sister, my husband and I visited him. It was on this day that my husband told our father that he did not need to worry about a thing and that it would be his job now to take care of me, my sister and our mother. I knew that this brought him much comfort. He even ate a little bit of chocolate ice cream for my husband. It was the only thing he had eaten in days. It was decided on Sunday, October 7th that we would say our goodbyes to Dad. My sister would be leaving the following Monday. It was a very difficult thing to do, but as I explained to my sister and my daughter, he needed to know that we would be okay after his death. I had read through Hospice that so many dying people hold-on until their family comes forward and says their goodbyes. My daughter had gone first and we respected her privacy and left the room. She shared with him her “near death” experience she had had. I knew her Pop Pop was listening to her and I also knew how difficult it must have been for the both of them. Her knowing she was saying goodbye to her grandfather and him knowing he was about to leave his first granddaughter.
My sister went next. We respected her privacy and left the room. I knew whatever words she was about to speak to him would be words that would break her heart and just as she too was trying to stay strong through expressing her goodbye’s that our father too was being strong for her as he held her hand as long as he could. I knew it really brought no comfort to her to have to say goodbye to our father. I wished that I could have just waved a magic wand on this day and spared everyone the pain. Yet, through it all I knew God was guiding us through this day and helping us with our words.
When it was my turn, I repeated my words to my father that I had done the previous Sunday by telling him I loved him so very much and that I would always remember him and would never forget him. I thanked him for raising me to be the compassionate person I am today, as well as I asked him for his forgiveness in all the miserable times I knew I had put him through as a daughter, but yet I knew he agreed with me when I told him I certainly had made up for those times. I asked him to say hello to my brother for me and to give him a big, strong hug from me and to also tell him that someday, I too would be with him. I kissed my father on his cheek and told him it was okay to go and that he would finally be at peace.
Monday morning, October 8th my sister and I went to visit our mother before I was to take my sister to the airport. Our visit was good. Mother appeared upbeat and seemed to recognize my sister. We had a good visit and my sister said her goodbyes to our mother. I knew it would be her last time to see our Mom.
After I dropped my sister off at the airport I stopped by my daughter’s work and picked her up to go with me to the hospital to see my father. Even though we said our goodbyes yesterday, it was extremely difficult for me to stay away. I just wanted to see him and most important know that he was not suffering.
When we were about to walk into his room the nurses were turning him on his side. He became very agitated by this, just as he had done many times before and in a clear and demanding voice asked them to stop. After they left the room, my daughter and I walked in. My daughter stood at the foot of his bed and I went to his side. When I reached for his hand, he flung it, almost as if telling me to leave. He was already lying on his back and his head was slightly turned toward the wall and he had his eyes open, fixed and staring up towards the ceiling as if he was having a very intense conversation with someone. I held his hand for a brief moment, kissed him on his cheek and told him I loved him. I had an overwhelming feeling that I was invading his privacy. It was after my kiss to his cheek that I turned away and cried out to God to please not let him suffer. Dear God, I could not return the next day, by myself and see him the way he was, pure skin and bones. As I drove my daughter home she told me that she too had the feeling that he did not want us in the room.
After I dropped her off, I cried all the way home. I asked God to please not let him suffer anymore and please bring him home. I spoke to God my fears of being by myself through the process of death and having to return to the hospital another day. My fear of being alone had return.
That evening I shared my feelings with my husband and I also thanked God for having such a wonderful man by my side. As I lay beside him that night I prepared myself for the phone call that I knew would come. It had not even made it to the second ring when my husband answered it. I knew from that first ring what I was about to hear on the other end of the line. I knew that the call was to tell me that my father had passed. I spoke with the nurse who told me she was beside my father when he passed. She was a very compassionate person and even thanked me for allowing her to be beside him at his time of death. She told me that he went very peacefully, taking one last breath. She told me that she worked the night shift and she would sit beside him late at night and comfort him. She was an angel sent to him in his final hours. When the hospital called that night I had not noticed the time. Many months prior to my father’s passing I kept waking at night and upon immediately opening my eyes the first thing that I would see is our clock and it would say 3:33 a.m. I remember after waking and seeing this time over and over that I finally spoke about it to my husband. I questioned why I was waking to exactly 3:33 a.m. One day my husband called me and told me to go buy a book called “Angel Numbers”, written by Doreen Virtue, Ph.D. In her book she explains why we always see the same numbers everywhere we go. In her book she explains that the angels give us messages in the form of number sequences. For example, you may have noticed that you frequently see the same numbers (such as 111, 333 or 444) every time you look at a clock, glance at license plates, or dial phone numbers. I bought her book and was fascinated by what my angels were telling me about the number 333.
333 – You’ve merged with the ascended masters, and they’re working with you day and night – on many levels. They love, guide, and protect you in all ways.
In her book, Doreen explains the angels also say that the placement of the numbers in a sequence holds special meaning. For example, when there are three or more numbers, the center digit is of primary focus. The angels say that this number represents the “heart” of the matter. Numerology is one of the few sacred sciences that have kept its magic from ancient to modern times. The angels remind us that we’re all alchemists, powerful enough to manifest our true desires through Divine magic. Numbers point out the importance of seeing Heavenly messages third-dimensionally in order to show us the lessons, growth opportunities, and guidance contained within each experience.
Just as the book had said “the center digit” which was a 3 represents the “heart” of the matter. When I later looked up the number 3 it said “The ascended masters (such as Jesus) are near. They’ve responded to your prayers and want to help you.
All along Jesus was beside me guiding me through this experience and answering my prayers for my father.
My mother’s Alzheimer’s had progressed so rapidly. Although she could still feed herself, by holding her own utensil from time to time, there were the times she would eat with her fingers, or would become distracted in a split second from the fact that she was just eating. She never lost her social skills and would still continue to carry on a conversation with you, even though you didn’t understand what she was saying. You just simply nodded your head with a yes, a big smile and even a burst of laughter. Or if it appeared she was talking about something serious, you would just follow her face cues to make your own face in response. There wasn’t a day that didn’t go buy that I regretted seeing my Mom this way. I enjoyed being with her and knew that each day may be the last. So everyday with her was spent to its fullest. Just sitting beside her holding her hand and not even talking was wonderful. To feel how soft her skin felt, like a new born baby. It is amazing to me how as we age, we return to our beginning of life. God has a plan for all of us. I watched his plan with Dad and now I wanted to watch very, very closely my Mom, not to miss a thing.
Mother knew my father had passed; she just didn’t have the words to express it. Prior to his passing, my sister and I went to visit her after we had been visiting our father. We were sitting there with her when all of a sudden she turned to us and said “I’m going to die before you and you and before everyone in this room”. It shocked us and what shocked us the most was those were the first clear words she had spoken in months. I remember when she said it I also had a feeling that what she was saying would come true sooner then we wanted it to.
After my father had passed I spent hours every day with my mother. I had an unexplained urgency inside of me that everyday was going to be my last with her. Each day that I spent with her I touched her, kissed her in hopes of planting a memory that would last a lifetime.
On Tuesday, October 30, 2007 my mother was admitted to the hospital with aspiration pneumonia. She passed on November 14, 2007 only 36 days after my father.
The months of September, October and November are difficult months for me. They are constant reminders of a very difficult period in my life. The tears return, the visions are a vivid as if it were happening today. I know with time, and through journaling and support of friends and family I will someday be able to replace the tears of witnessing the horror of death’s reality in my parents with beautiful pictures of joyful times with them. Each day since their passing I work hard at finding that joy. That is simply, all I can do.
Deborah Ann Tornillo
Author, “36 Days Apart”
http://www.authorsden.com/dtornillo
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