WATCHING DAD

In the stillness of the night, he takes each breath slowly; deliberately.  Eyes closed, hands by his side.  The silence is only broken by the humming and hissing of the oxygen machine.  The oxygen, supplied in a clear plastic tube to his nose, enables his dreams to be more peaceful; bringing a degree of comfort and relief to a weary body now in the third week of home Hospice care.
 
For four nights and portions of the day, I have been watching Dad.  Holding his hand, asking if he would like to something to drink or eat, reading him articles from The Smithsonian Magazine and The Wall Street Journal, and recalling a special moment we shared many years ago.  
 
"Hey Dad."
 
"Yes..."  as he opens his eyes.
 
"Do you remember the time I was just five years old, and you ran into the waves at the Shore to rescue my favorite hat that was floating away?  I loved that hat.  Only years later did I realize that you didn't even know how to swim!"
 
He just smiles and closes his eyes.
 
As I continue to watch him into the late hours of the night, I think about the many times, many nights in which Dad watched over me.  From when I was a baby in my crib to sick times growing up, to times when he waited up for me when I came in after curfew.  He watched me in the stands as I played soccer and baseball.  He watched me in the audience as I graduated from high school and college.  He watched me as I married my wife.  He watched me as we brought home each of his four grandchildren.
 
"Dad, thank you for everything you have given me over the many years.  From the few extra dollars to see a movie in high school to the tuition checks that got me through college.  Thank you for the early morning breakfasts, to the dinners on the grill.  Thank you for the laughter, letters, and e-mails of support, love, and congratulations through the years. But most of all, thank you for your ever-present smile, words of encouragement and for your constant examples of kindness that taught me the value of giving of yourself to another.  You are and ever will be a source of inspiration to me."
 
He reaches out his hand, opens his eyes, looks at me and smiles.  He then closes his eyes and returns to his dreams.  
 
"Love you, Dad.  Have a good night's sleep.  You're the best!"
 
All is silent now. I leave his bedroom and close the door.  It's very late.  It's time to go to bed. 
 
Until Next Friday,