Tag: hearts and thoughts

Albert “Bud” Bowen (1915-2008)

Pa passed away peacefully this morning.  I really appreciate the thoughts and concern that all of you have shown to me this week.  It was a little tough being at work today, particularly because most of my coworkers knew why I was away and would ask how things were, went, etc.  They would say things like “I hope you had a good trip” and “I hope things worked out”.  I appreciate their good intentions, but it’s hard to say “he died” without making them feel bad for asking.

I’m doing alright, however. I would rather be with my family right now, but that’s just not possible so I’m dealing with it other ways. Mostly I’ve been thinking a lot about the life that Pa led, and how much he meant to our family and his friends. He lived an amazing life.  He served in a World War, raised a strong family, continual gave back to his community by volunteering, and always took care of others and never wanted to be a burden to anyone. He was active in his church, the American Legion, volunteered as a school crossing guard, and spent hours at the local nursing home visiting residents up until the last year or so.  At 93, the majority of those he was visiting were younger than him!  He was quite the man. I hope that I can look back on a life that was fulfilling and meaningful as his.

holding vigil

He looked me in the eye today, squeezed my hand, and told me that he loved me.  My heart is broken with joy.

I’ve spent the last day and a half feeling completely helpless.  There is nothing we can do but be there for each other to lean on as we hold round-the-clock bedside vigil.  Waiting.  But that one moment was worth the world to me, for the chance for me to tell him that I love him one last time, and to get the same in return.

Word’s cannot describe what it is like to sit by the beside of a stroke victim who wants so desperately to communicate but cannot.  When he opens his eyes, they light up when they recognize your face,and he squeezes your hand you know that it’s love behind those eyes.  You just know, without words, because you’ve lived all of your live being loved by him.

Pa has had very few moments of brief lucidity that are unbelievably precious, particularly since we know his time is short… and it breaks my heart to know that we won’t have him much longer.  He’s as comfortable as they can possibly make him, but it’s hard because we know he’s in pain.

I had to get away tonight. I couldn’t take it any more.  I needed to get out and away… to be distracted, if only for a few hours.  I’m going back tomorrow, to hold vigil overnight with my aunt before I have to fly back home in the morning.  Leaving is going to be so hard… knowing that I won’t ever see him again.