My father died Wednesday morning. He had prostate cancer for more than ten years, but it really caught up with him over the last few months, and especially after we celebrated his 98th birthday, ten days ago. On Monday he moved to a hospice. While I assumed the next days would be demanding, what I did not expect was that they also would be enlightening.
Hospices are wonderful places – and available to almost every American family at little to no cost.
Although my father’s final days had some similarities to my grandmother’s goodbye in 1977, the setting was very different. Grandmother Harrington died in a hospital room that she shared with another patient (a nice person, but I am sure she did not enjoy the experience – including the constant apologies from our family). The room smelled of medicine and worse. There was no place to sit. Her two youngest grandchildren (whom she was very close to) could not visit because they were under 18. And even though she had a serious stroke and could not talk, I felt that she was aware of our anxiety.
I’m grateful that my father’s exit was quite different. He had a spacious room with lots of seating. The hospice allowed us to put up pictures his young grandchildren recently made for his birthday. Everyone could come (even pets). When I visited by the final time Tuesday evening he was sleeping peacefully (a delightful light snore) while I and a visiting minister chatted. It was wonderful.
According to the Hospice staff I spoke with (most of them volunteers), many American families that desperately need hospice services are not aware that almost all costs are paid for by Medicare and Medigap policies, including post-death family counseling. And if a home setting is more preferred, many services (hospital bed, pain medication) can be obtained very inexpensively through Medicare.
My father had a separate and very supportive family life that I did not fully appreciate
When I first stopped by his hospice room Tuesday morning, I saw not only my stepmother Donna and my step-siblings Tim and Deanna, but also Tim’s wife, Deanna’s ex-husband, Tim’s brother-in-law, Donna’s two sisters, Donna’s adult granddaughter, and several small children – all of whom were very sad to see “Papa” go. Many I knew well – but there were several in the room I had either never met or not talked to in recent years. So I realized that one reason my father lived happily to 98 is that he had been part of an extended family for the past 30 years, full of those who loved and supported him – and most importantly, filled his life with youthful companionship.
I will have a very big hole to fill – but because of my father I will make it happen
Besides being my father, William Compton was my one-time business partner and my full-time best friend. Over the years we have worked together and fought together – I have hated him (sometimes) and loved him (always). He got me involved in gaming (organizing an annual casino night for a Cleveland State University engineering program he created) – and then gave me the initial idea for what became CDC Gaming. And throughout it all he was larger than life.
When Donna called me with the news Wednesday morning, the first thing I thought was to call my father to tell him that my father had died. So I will have to make some adjustments, but I have 60 years of memories and a lifetime of good advice, many friends, plus a brand-new angel who will be there until I die helping me every step of the way.
