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“Teri says call her,” my wife relayed to me deplaning the aircraft in Reno. It was 9:30 p.m. “Oh no, he’s gone,” I thought as I dialed the phone. My dad was on final and I was vigorously trying to get to Carson City Nevada before he passed. This trip from Virginia had been a series of stressful legs as each time I hit the ground I would check my phone to see his status. In Reno, it turned out they were sending Daniel, my nephew and Carson City Sheriff, for me so he could whisk me to Carson quickly. My wife would stay, gather the luggage, and follow on with my sister’s husband. My dad was hanging on.
I linked up with Daniel and made the 25-minute drive in 12 minutes. Arriving at my dad’s apartment I gave Daniel a hug and moved to the back room where my dad was in a hospice-supplied medical bed. He was not conscious. We had been giving him morphine in decreasing time intervals for a day now and he now was at 15-minute intervals. I hugged my sister Teri and my niece Meliah and sat on the edge of my dad’s bed. Holding his hand, I told him I loved him, that I forgave him for his shortcomings as a dad, and asked for forgiveness for my shortcomings as a son. It was settling. My wife arrived about 30 minutes after me and joined the fray. We then all sat in this room for the next 40 minutes. It is as if he was satisfied that we were all there and everything was OK. His breathing intervals slowed then around 11 p.m. Tuesday, 6 December, he passed.