Friday, February 7, 2014

Saying It's OK To Go

*my father is on the right

My blogging budette Katherine, over at Shoot Me Now, shared a post on Tuesday, listing some of the things she thought she would/could never do.

And one of the things she listed hit home for me because it was something I too thought I would/could never do, but did.

After I finished leaving my comment, I began reflecting back to the similar experience Katherine and I both shared, and realized it wasn’t a matter of ‘would I or could I do it’, it was more about knowing that I had to do it – and wanted to do it – even though I was unsure of what I was going to say.

So thank you Katherine for sharing your post because it gave me the recollection and inspiration for this one.

-----------------------

The last thing on Katherine's list was this…

“Hold my dying father’s hand and tell him, “It’s OK to go.” Something I never thought I could do, but had to… and did.”

And it was the same for me.

By the time my father had been admitted to a Hospice facility, it was only a matter of nine days before he passed away. And I have to say that those nine days were some of the most beautiful moments I had with my father because he and I got to have closure on certain things. We also bonded in a way we never had before. We touched and kissed, and told each other, “I love you.”

While my father was in Hospice, my mother and I took turns staying in the room with him. I took the morning till evening shift, while my mother took the evening till morning shift.

On the day my father passed, I could sense that morning he was hanging on because he didn’t want to leave his family.

My father was unconscious the last few days of his life, so he couldn’t speak. But I knew he could hear - and perhaps not with his ears, but with his soul.

So I sat there for about an hour that morning, contemplating what I was going to say because I knew he needed to hear, “It’s OK, you can go.”

It’s a strange thing saying that because you have so many emotions going through you – you’re frightened, sad, and at a loss for words. You don’t want the person to go, yet you know you have to allow them.

And perhaps some people hang on, not so much because they don’t want to leave, but more so because they want to make sure that the people they love will be OK when they do leave.

Finally, I just did it. I walked over to the side of his bed, gently stroked his forehead, and said the first thing that came to my heart.

I said, “It’s OK Dad, you can go. And know that you were a wonderful father. You gave me everything I needed as your son. And I’m proud that you were my father. I love ya, Dad. Just let yourself go and don’t hang on for us please, because we’ll be OK. We love ya, Dad. Be at peace.”

And I knew he heard me because for about a half a minute he kept trying to speak, but couldn't.

I kissed him on the forehead and told him that I loved him one more time.

Later that evening when my mother came to Hospice, she and I stepped out to get a quick bite to eat before I went home. We must have been gone about 25 minutes, when we walked into Hospice and saw a nurse approaching us. And I knew, even before she opened her mouth to say it, “I’m so sorry, but your husband and father just passed away.”

And as my mother and I entered his room, there he was – at peace.

I clearly remember walking over to one of the windows in his room and looking up at the sky. It was the time of day that my father loved the most…dusk.

So I thought it utter perfection that he left this earth...at his favorite time.


Have a beautiful weekend everyone!
X

50 Comments:

  1. i just heard this very thing on a talk radio show i listen to. the host said the dying are holding on for their family, but the minute you tell them it's okay and not to worry about them, they pass away. right now, i can't imagine me saying those words and hope i don't have to.

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  2. Thanks for sharing such a personal moment in your life, Ron. I've had so many people tell me that their loved ones waited until they left the room to take their final breath. That amazes me.

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  3. Oh Ron, this post was so beautiful it made me cry. And you're right because I remember my mother telling me that before her grandmother passed away, she too felt as though she was hanging on until she had reassurance from the family that it was okay to go. And it was not long after she heard those words did she pass.



    As hard as I know it must have been to say those words to your father, you gave him what he needed to be at peace.


    Thank you for sharing this today, Ron. Have a wonderful weekend x


    You and your father looked so much alike.

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  4. God, Ron, this was a heart-breaker. Your description of your father's passing is so moving that I'm ready to cry--and I'm at work!


    Letting go of a parent is one of the most painful things you will ever do in this life and no matter how prepared you think you are, it's still a shock when it actually happens.


    Shortly after my father died and I was officially an orphan, one of my coworkers told me she was quitting her job and moving down south to take care of her ailing parents. She was worried, but I told her would find the strength to do it.


    You find that strength because you have to find it, because life gives you no choice whatsoever. And you so you dig a little deeper and you find yourself doing things you never thought you could.


    Thanks for writing so a beautiful post, buddy. And thanks to Katherine for inspiring you. You have both given me a lot to think about.


    Take care, buddy, and have a great weekend!

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  5. Good morning Valerie!

    " for having the opportunity to say goodbye to both your Mom and Dad."

    It's ironic because my brother Tom was actually there physically to say goodbye before my mother passed away, and I was there before my father passed away. It's like we both said goodbye for each other.

    "I talked to her like you talked to your Dad, holding her hand and telling her that Uncle Ted was waiting for her. She went during the night and I knew she had gone. As true as I sit here typing I heard her say goodbye."

    Yes, the emotions are going now for me too. I'm so happy that you were there for your aunt because I know it gave her much comfort and peace.

    Thank you so much for stopping by and sharing that, dear lady. Have a beautiful weekend!

    (((((((((((((((( You )))))))))))))

    X to you and Joe!

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  6. I can't not comment on this post, Ron. Those last weeks with our parents are so important and precious. We know when the time is right, to let them go. The hardest thing I ever watched, was Mo telling her 27 year old daughter to go and be at peace. She spoke her through the whole thing and it was very powerful and moving. I don't know where Mo got the strength to do that, when every ounce of her being wanted her daughter to live and be well again.



    Another powerful post, Ron.

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  7. Hey there Val!

    " the host said the dying are holding on for their family, but the minute you tell them it's okay and not to worry about them, they pass away."

    And yes, I truly believe that because I had a deep, deep sense that my father was holding on because he was worried about us, so he needed to hear those words.

    "i can't imagine me saying those words and hope i don't have to."



    As I shared, it's a strange and hard to do because you feel so many emotions. But somehow you find the ability to do it.


    Much thanks for stopping by, girl. Have a beautiful weekend!
    X

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  8. Hey there Bijoux!

    "I've had so many people tell me that their loved ones waited until they left the room to take their final breath. That amazes me."



    Yes, I believe that my father waited until my mother and I had left the room to take his final breath. And yet, I've heard stories about some people dying while there were friends and family in the room too. I think everyone passes away differently.


    Thanks so much for stopping by, my friend. Have a beautiful weekend!
    X

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  9. Hola Denise!

    "...she too felt as though she was hanging on until she had reassurance from the family that it was okay to go. And it was not long after she heard those words did she pass."

    Amen.

    "As hard as I know it must have been to say those words to your father, you gave him what he needed to be at peace."

    It was something I thought I would ever or could ever do, but as I shared, I wanted to do it because I knew he needed to hear that. Somehow you get the ability to do it.

    "You and your father looked so much alike.'



    HA! Yes, so many people used to say that to he and I. They would say, "You could never mistaken the two of you for father and son."


    He and I also had a lot of similar personality traits as well.


    Thanks so much for stopping by, girl. Have a wonderful weekend too!
    X

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  10. Ronnie that is an amazing story. Remind me of when my Grandmother passed. I really believe she held on to make sure only those who could handle seeing it were there. I wasnt even supposed to be there when it happened I had class all day but I got a call after class was finished that she was still hanging on and my mom thought she wanted to see me. So I went. When I got there my Aunt and Uncle were getting ready to step out and they were not taking any of it well. They still had hope she would turn around. So when they stepped out I went over and told her I was there and that I loved her. Within minutes she was gone. It was one of the hardest things to see but it was something I will never forget.

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  11. Hey there Babs!

    "The hardest thing I ever watched, was Mo telling her 27 year old daughter to go and be at peace. She spoke her through the whole thing and it was very powerful and moving. I don't know where Mo got the strength to do that, when every ounce of her being wanted her daughter to live and be well again."



    OK...tears right now. Tears.


    Thank you SO MUCH for sharing that with me, Babs. Thank you.


    And please give Mo a HUGE hug for me, and tell her what an amazing lady I think she is.


    Thank you so much for taking the time to stop by and share your comment, Babs!


    (((((((((( You ))))))))


    Much X to you and Mo!

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  12. Hey there Shae!

    "So when they stepped out I went over and told her I was there and that I loved her. Within minutes she was gone. It was one of the hardest things to see but it was something I will never forget."



    ((((((((((((((( You )))))))))))))))


    Thank you so much for sharing that. And yes, it is hard to see, isn't it? But as you said, it's something you never forget and stays with you as one of the most beautiful moments in your life.


    Because it's LOVE you felt at that moment.


    Thanks so much for stopping by, girl. Have a beautiful weekend!
    X

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  13. Ron, this post torn at my heartstrings. What a bittersweet moment. And I only hope that when the times comes if I ever need to do this, I can find the strength.


    Powerful post, dude. Thank you for sharing it.

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  14. Hiya Matt!

    " And I only hope that when the times comes if I ever need to do this, I can find the strength."

    If that time ever comes, trust me, you will find the strength. I honestly didn't think I would/could, but did. It becomes something you want to do.

    Much thanks for stopping by, buddy. Have super weekend!

    X

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  15. Hey there Lady Dianne!

    "yet I didn't hesitate for a second to tell her I did. I have never once regretted that decision and often look back to it when I think/feel that I'm not a kind person. It was an act of kindness for both of us."

    Good for you! And honestly, I always think of you as a kind and compassionate person. You have a very soft and loving heart. And I mean that.

    And it's ironic you mentioned forgiveness, because my father and I had the same thing. During the last few years of his life, he would often ask me if I forgave him for not allowing me to be there when my biological mother died. And yes, I absolutely forgave him because he did what he thought was best, so how could not forgive him? And being with my father while he was dying, gave closure for not only he and I, but for my mother as well. It was like saying goodbye to both of them.

    " Funny, she died during the only 30 minutes she was alone. I had gone to check on Jeffrey, he was a little one then, and my brother hadn't arrived yet."

    Isn't it something how some people die that way, with no one in the room?

    Thank you SO MUCH for sharing your comment, dear lady!

    (((((((( You ))))))))

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  16. I remember this situation so well because I did the same thing for my grandmother. My mother was an only child & when my grandmother went into the hospital for her last stay she was running my mother ragged. Even though my grandmother loved us all, she really wanted my mother all the time. I offered to take the whole day Sunday to give my mother a break.
    My grandmother's heart was so weak she would doze on & off a lot, but I noticed she would awake with a start, searching for a hand to hold so she was not really getting a good sleep at all. I held her hand & we talked about our faith (my grandmother & I were the only ones in our family who talked about religion ever). While she was sleeping, I held her hand for over 2 hours so she could get a good sleep. But I also told her it was OK for her to go, she had a long life & she was lonely. She passed the next morning.

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  17. "While she was sleeping, I held her hand for over 2 hours so she could get a good sleep. But I also told her it was OK for her to go, she had a long life & she was lonely. She passed the next morning."

    Benze, thank you so much for sharing your story on this post, my friend.

    It amazes me how many people have the same thing. Being there for someone who is dying is such a bittersweet experience because it's hard, but it's also an experience so full of love.



    Again, thank you for sharing in this post. Have a beautiful weekend!
    X

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  18. That was lovely, Ron!


    Several years ago my husband flew down to Florida to be with his step father who was dying. He had refused dialysis (he's DNR) and his kidneys shut down. His dad kept hanging on because he had unfinished business (personal) to take care of. Once he was able to speak his mind, it was easier for him to let go. They also increased the morphine.


    If was tough on my husband. His biological father died when he was four.

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  19. Hey there Mark!

    "I could lie and say those tears in my eyes are from cutting onions, but it's 9 AM and I'm at work. I don't think I'd be fooling anybody."

    HA! OMG...you always crack me up, man!

    It's funny because I haven't thought about this experience in years. But when Katherine posted that earlier this week, the emotions came back to me as if it were yesterday. I could remember everything so clearly. My Dad passed away in 1993.

    "Someday I may be in this situation, and I can only hope I have the strength and courage to act similarly."

    And you will, Mark, trust me, you will. Something just kicks in and you just do it.

    Thanks so much for stopping by, buddy. Wishing you a SUPER SNOWY weekend!

    X to you and Tara!

    P.S. Tomorrow we're supposed to get slammed with more snow. :)

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  20. Hello there, Lauren!

    "His dad kept hanging on because he had unfinished business (personal) to take care of. Once he was able to speak his mind, it was easier for him to let go."

    And it was the same for my father. My dad had a lot of things to mull over before he died. But I'm certain he came to peace with those things.

    "If was tough on my husband. His biological father died when he was four."



    I don't know whether you knew this, but it was the same for me. Except, it was my biological mother who passed way when I was 6 years old. My step mother passed away last year. And as hard as it was for me, she and I had a very different relationship than my father and I. And even though she was my stepmother, we were VERY close, so we opening talked about things all our lives. Therefore, when she died, I knew we had always said what we needed to say while she was alive. And that gave me tremendous peace.


    Thank you so much for stopping by and sharing your comment, my friend. Have a beautiful weekend!
    X

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  21. I'm so sorry to hear that. No, I didn't know, Ron. Jim had a very close relationship with his step dad. They even worked together at one time. He called him, "Bob." It's a good thing that was his name.


    You, too. Have a beautiful weekend!

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  22. " Jim had a very close relationship with his step dad. They even worked together at one time. He called him, "Bob." It's a good thing that was his name."


    HA! OMG...how ironic because I called my stepmother by her first name as well, Ann. Yet to me, she 'was' my mother.


    X

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  23. Your father was so handsome, Ron!

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  24. Aw...thanks, girl :)
    X

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  25. I didn't get the tissues in time and now my makeup is all smeared. This is a beautiful post. I think sometimes people try and hang on thinking it's for the benefit of others. Others is like Lauren said, there's unfinished business. Your affirmation of his role as a father may have been exactly what he needed to hear. That last shot is stunning.

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  26. Ron, this brings tears to my eyes. It's so very much like when my own dear dad passed.

    Dads spend their entire lives trying to be strong and brave for their families. The last thing Daddy wanted was for us to be unhappy or afraid, and I know his final hours were spent wrapping his mind around how he could protect us from pain and grieving once he left.

    We didn't have to tell him it was okay to go. But like you and your mom, we went to lunch because the nurse told us to. As we got back to the hospital, our phone rang telling us to get back pronto. We were just in time to say our final good-byes before he peacefully drifted off. I'm sure BOTH our dads are looking down and beaming with pride!

    Have a blessed weekend, and thanks for stirring the memory!

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  27. "I think sometimes people try and hang on thinking it's for the benefit of others. Others is like Lauren said, there's unfinished business."

    Yes, I think you're right, Lisa. It's probably different for everyone.

    For my father, I think it was a combination of both. He did have unfinished business to come to peace with. And I could also sense (towards the end) that he was concerned for us being OK after he left.

    "Your affirmation of his role as a father may have been exactly what he needed to hear."

    My father was such a great guy/father. He had a heart of gold and gave his children (and others) such support throughout his life. But I don't think he ever realized what a great guy/father he was.

    Much thanks for stopping by, my friend Have a beautiful weekend!
    X

    P.S. Isn't that photo stunning? However, it's not mine. I got from Wikimedia Commons.

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  28. Hello there Debbie!

    "The last thing Daddy wanted was for us to be unhappy or afraid, and I know his final hours were spent wrapping his mind around how he could protect us from pain and grieving once he left."

    Same with my father. I know he worried about that because I could just sense it that morning.

    "We were just in time to say our final good-byes before he peacefully drifted off. I"

    Oh, I am so glad you and your family were there to say your goodbyes before he drifted off. That's so beautiful.

    "I'm sure BOTH our dads are looking down and beaming with pride!"



    :)


    Much thanks for stopping by, dear lady. Have beeeeeautiful weekend!


    X

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  29. Everyone must confront this at one point in their lives, if they live long enough. I think that is one reason why so many people fear the end of life; not their own end, which they will not see, but the end of those who were once all the world to them. Thank you for sharing this, Ron. It has helped me, and I know it will help others, as painful as it must have been to share. Thank you.

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  30. Hey there Nathaniel!

    Great to see you! Thanks for stopping by!

    " I think that is one reason why so many people fear the end of life; not their own end, which they will not see, but the end of those who were once all the world to them."



    You know, I never thought it that way, but you brought up an excellent point!


    Actually, this wasn't painful for me to share, it felt more therapeutic. I brought up a lot emotion and tears, but in a good way. I think back on this experience as something beautiful.


    Have a super weekend, buddy! And again, thanks for stopping by!

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  31. You nailed it, David!

    "Too often we fight against things we cannot change. There is a time for fighting and a time for acceptance."


    And it's ironic how when you move into that place of acceptance, the words just come. And it's not as hard as you though it would be.


    Thanks so much for stopping by and sharing your wisdom, buddy! Have a SUPER weekend!


    X

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  32. Yup....LOTS of tears. And not just from your story...what amazing sharing from the folks who visited here......more tears, but such displays of honour for the people they loved so well.
    We share some similar experiences. I have vivid memories of my mothers passing when I was 5, I wasn't present but grew up believing had I been -- somehow things might have been different.
    I wasn't present when my father passed. It was sudden and unexpected...again some bit of me wondered if it could have been different.
    I wasn't present when my stepmother passed. Hers was a progressive thing. I had opportunities to do some closure, to tend to the 'loose ends and unfinished business'. Losing her was a whole new experience for me. It was still painful, dealing with the loss. But I didn't doubt my actions or wonder if I could have changed the course it took.


    I knew she was leaving me and this earth the day she passed, she struggled to hug me in a deteriorated state...the nursed chalked it up to insulin and medications making her restless. I knew different and made a point to go back to the room and hug and kiss her forehead in her then resting state. I knew that would be our last time together...and it was. She passed later that night.
    None of the losses were 'easy'. I'm grateful for the time I had with each parent, limited as it was.
    I never believed I was strong enough. But you DO dig a little deeper. And it becomes less about you and more about them until you find it in you to let go...somehow that frees two souls, yours and theirs.


    You were graced to have the opportunities. Even if you weren't present as they passed over, you got to come to peace with them, and help them find peace. I'm honoured you shared this with us...and that others were touched to share some very emotional, powerful moments in their lives.
    I weep at the losses and celebrate that they loved and were loved so very, very well.
    (((((( you )))))

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  33. Hey ho Robert!


    This was one of those stories that just flowed. And it surprised me how much I remembered because my Dad passed away in 1993, but the experience came back to me as if it happened yesterday.

    "My father spoke to his dad, and a few hours later he passed. I was not there at the time, but my father said that my grandfather died very peacefully."



    That's wonderful, Robert! And I'm sure your father felt the same way I did. Blessed to have had that time with his father. It's a bittersweet experience that you always seem to remember as SWEET.


    Much thanks for stopping by, buddy. And thanks for your kind words. Have a faaaaaaaaabulous weekend!
    X

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  34. Oh, Ron.... The first post back that I read and it's a tear jerker.


    Thanks for sharing this. I need to visit my father. He's doing ok but that day will come. And, I know I should not wait until then. As always, you give me something to think about.

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  35. A touching post Ron, which strikes a chord as I also said goodbye to my dad in similar circumstances.
    He was taken by cancer about 15 years ago after a relatively short period in hospital but fortunately he held on long enough for me to get up from Devon to London to see him.
    We'd had our differences in the past, my lifestyle was always something he'd disproved of, but in those final few days he told me he was proud of what I'd done with my life and that was maybe the single most important thing he said to me before the end.
    He had been ill for a few months and we weren't under any illusions about his chances, he had tumors in his lungs and spine which were spreading fast but he didn't need hospitalization until very close to the end.
    Not only did we have those few days with him to say goodbye, he also hung on long enough to discover that my sister was pregnant with his grandson, something that clearly brought him enormous joy.
    I was there at the final moment and simply kissed his dry forehead, his silver-grey hair reduced to a few wisps now, and said "Thanks for everything dad, goodbye. I love you" and a minute later he was gone.
    No dramatic final words, no traumatic medical panic and no tears.
    He was a good man who spent his life working hard for his family and who went through the tragic and awful loss of my wonderful mother when I was a child, bringing up my sister and I up on his own until he found love and happiness again with my step mother, who was at his side when he slipped away. She has also found someone else to share her life with, something I am sure would have made dad very happy.

    After he died, my sister said to me "Well at least his suffering is over and he's in a better place". I'm not good with platitudes and I'm an atheist as you know, but I let that one go under the circumstances and, touching my chest and my temple in turn, just replied "He's here and here, that's good enough for me"

    And you know what? It is.

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  36. Dale, I can't thank you enough for sharing your comment. I'm sitting here having morning cup of coffee and crying. But not sad tears, tears of joy, because you concluded your comment with something so beautifully profound and true...

    "touching my chest and my temple in turn, just replied "He's here and here, that's good enough for me"

    And you know what? It is."

    You're right, buddy. Because that's truly where the people we love, who pass on, remain.

    In our heart and in our mind.

    Again, thank you so much for sharing your comment, Dale. You've added much to this post.

    Have a super weekend!
    X

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  37. Hellooooooooooo Jen!!!!!


    It's so GREAT to see ya!


    After I read Katherine's post earlier this week, the memories of this experience came back to me so strong that I felt the need to share it. This is one of those experiences that will remain clearly etched in my heart as a blessing, which I am very grateful.


    Thanks so much for stopping by, girl. Have a faaaaabulous weekend!


    X

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  38. Ron, I love you, man! You have the right attitude; pain isn't something you push down, but something you push through. Because when you push it down, it turns to anger. But when you push it through, it comes out as tears at first, but then, all that is left in your heart is joy. Keep inspiring me and others!

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  39. Nathaniel, you are a VERY wise man.

    I freakin' love how you said this...

    "pain isn't something you push down, but something you push through. Because when you push it down, it turns to anger. But when you push it through, it comes out as tears at first, but then, all that is left in your heart is joy.

    You are spot on! There is no way to avoid pain or get around it because pain is part of life. And you are so right, when we push it down...it turns to anger. However when we embrace it, we are transformed.

    Thanks so much for stopping back and adding your wisdom, buddy!

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  40. Oh Ron, thank you for sharing your memory of your Father and your ability to let him go. I have not personally done this, but in the last 4 months my best friend let her husband go, and my sister-in-law said goodbye to her Dad. You have undeniable strength.

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  41. Oh my God Ron. I am sitting on my bed with tears rolling down my face. We have the same story... the same feelings....

    You are always so inspiring to me... I have posts saved of yours that you have written that touched me... I keep them in my email.. especially the ones about your Mom. For you to mention me means the world.

    I have NO WORDS.... just tears rolling down my face. I wanna give you a big hug, cry a minute and then heck, let's go get a coffee, chocolate and then a good shot or two of something... then take hysterical if not inappropriate pictures in the produce aisle and post them on our blogs!

    XXOXOOO but seriously Ron... all I can say is WOW.

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  42. Hellooo there Jean!

    " I have not personally done this, but in the last 4 months my best friend let her husband go, and my sister-in-law said goodbye to her Dad."

    Wow...4 months. That just recently happened then. Hope they're both doing well.....X

    " You have undeniable strength."

    You know what's ironic though? I never believed I would have the strength to do something like this. However it's odd, because something just kicks in and gives you the strength. It's one of those things you just do if that time ever comes.

    Much thanks for stopping by, my friend. Hope you're enjoying a great weekend!

    X

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  43. Helloooooooo Katherine!

    Can I just tell you that after I read your post on Tuesday, I kept thinking about and recalling that moment I had with my father (as you did with your father), so I just had to put it down in words and share it. So thank YOU!

    " let's go get a coffee, chocolate and then a good shot or two of something... then take hysterical if not inappropriate pictures in the produce aisle and post them on our blogs!"

    HA! Yes! And I have a feeling that one of these days we WILL meet in person and do that, for sure!

    Again, thank you so much for your post because it gave me the inspiration for this one!

    ((((((((((((((((((((( You ))))))))))))))))))))

    X ya, girl!

    Enjoy the rest of your weekend!

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  44. That was just beautiful Ron. It is a great gift to be able to tell someone you will be okay and they can die peacefully.

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  45. Herman TurnipFebruary 09, 2014

    Beautiful post. Simply beautiful. My eyes are steeped in tears as I type this. I can only hope that, when the time comes, I can be as strong as this for my parent's sake.

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  46. Hiya Robert! Yes, agree too....AMAZING sharing! The comments have added so much to this post. I actually went back last night and read them all again.


    Thanks for stopping back, buddy!

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  47. "It is a great gift to be able to tell someone you will be okay and they can die peacefully."


    You are sooooooooo right! And that's how see this experience...a gift. A blessing.


    Thanks so much for stopping by, girl. Hope you had a super Sunday!

    X

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  48. Hey there Herman!

    Thank you :)

    "I can only hope that, when the time comes, I can be as strong as this for my parent's sake."


    And you will. Trust me, you will. Something just kicks in and gives you the strength. And when you look back on the experience, as bittersweet as it was, you only recall the sweet.


    Much thanks for stopping by, buddy. Hope you're weekend was awesome!


    X to you, Karin, and Mr. Tyler!

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  49. Jay of The Depp EffectFebruary 10, 2014

    You know, Ron, that is so similar to my experience with my dying mother that it's uncanny - except that I never did get the chance to talk with her and find any kind of closure because she was unconscious when my brother found her. I did talk to her, and I did hold her hand, but it's more to do with the fact that in the end a nurse said to me that she thought she was near the end, and that sometimes people hang on and need to be told they can go. My sister in law had also told me that sometimes they wait until they are alone to let go of the thread of life they're hanging onto, and so it was.

    On the day, I sat with her as usual, and just before I left for the evening I held her hand and told her I loved her and that she'd done a good job here on this earth, and then I told her that though I didn't want her to, it was OK if she needed to leave us. I said goodnight and kissed her, and I drove back to my hotel, only fifteen minutes away. As I pulled into the car park my phone rang and it was the sister on the ward to tell me she'd gone.

    I'm glad you posted this, because I think it happens more often that we think: people hang on because they're worried about their family, and they do sometimes need to be told 'It's OK to go'.

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  50. Jay, I can't thank you enough for sharing the story about your mother. It was so beautiful! And yes, I remember back (a few years ago) when you and your family went to where your mother lived, when this had happened.

    " a nurse said to me that she thought she was near the end, and that sometimes people hang on and need to be told they can go. My sister in law had also told me that sometimes they wait until they are alone to let go of the thread of life they're hanging onto, and so it was."



    And that is exactly how it was with my father as well. He needed to be told he could go, and then waited until he was alone to pass.


    Again, thank you for sharing your story within this post. I can't get over how many of my readers have shared similar stories, so you're right...this happens more often than we think.


    X

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