This Time, It is a Gift

This morning I went to see Dad. When I arrived Mom said, "He's awake!" She told me last night that he was quite alert, although he had no desire to eat. He responded affirmatively to all she said. Dad was still in bed, and when I leaned over, he looked right at me and smiled. I said, "Hi Dad!" and took both of his hands. He started to chuckle and said, "It's too cold!" Oops, sorry Dad, my hands were freezing from being outside. That's when I noticed that I was able to take his hands because they weren't clenched as usual. They were simply lying on top of each other under his blanket. In all the months since Dad first left home, this was the most relaxed I had ever seen him. This was also the most interactive I've seen him since well before Christmas. His eyes would be closed for several minutes, then they would open slightly and he would look around, and if I made eye contact with him he would nod and smile, mumble something I couldn't make out. Mom had to leave a few minutes before me, so we were alone. When I finally got up, I leaned over and took Dad's hand and said,"I have to go, but I'll be back," and he nodded and said, "Yeah." Then I put one hand on his cheek, and pressed my face against his other cheek. And I felt him patting my arm.

I went to see him again this afternoon. His hands were more restless. They kept moving towards each other as if they were going to clasp together again, but it never quite happened, and he would quiet down. I read in the hospice guide that this is one of the signs one may see towards the end, and that I should not try to restrain or quiet him down physically, just keep talking to him or play music. I rubbed his arm and chest, played music, and after a few seconds his hands would quiet down again.

This time, it is a gift.