Posted in Being human, death, Death & Mortality Series, family

Saying goodbye to my dad.

Towards the end of 2014 was also the end of my dad’s life. He died at home. In his last few weeks, he couldn’t speak anymore. I was too sick to travel all the way across the country and into my parents’ house in the middle of the mountains. So I was the only member of our immediate family who couldn’t come to see him in person. And I couldn’t speak either.

We’d been doing video chats on Skype a lot. He’d talk, and I’d type, but mostly we just hung out and loved each other. But now neither of us could talk and he couldn’t type either.

When he became unable to talk anymore, my mom set up their laptop on my dad’s hospital bed, and started Skype video chats for us. Instead of talking or typing, we just stared at each other, and loved each other. And that’s how we said goodbye.

I never knew there were any photos taken at the time, but during the hospital stay after I broke my back a second time, my mom sent me this photo of me and my dad Skyping. I’m really glad to have these memories. I’m really glad we had the chance to say goodbye. I feel amazingly lucky for that.

My dad lying in a hospital bed doing a Skype video chat with me on a small laptop.

When he died, he sent me a chunk of his beard hairs. (When I was little, he always let me play with his beard and his loose skin.)

I have been wearing those in floating lockets ever since, and they’re really beautiful. Photos don’t do them justice. But I’m able to walk around with a piece of his beard worn as jewelry every day. My mom sent some more beard when I was in the hospital, because somehow in the lead-up to the hospital stay I lost my other locket, and my spare beard hairs are in a drawer somewhere inaccessible to me right now. So when she sent the other beard hairs, I was able to put them in a new locket. I’m equally grateful to have something physical and tangible to remember him by any time I want to. Beard hair is more durable than memory sometimes.

My father’s grey beard hairs in a circular metal floating locket.

And I’m really glad to have a father who understood how much can be said without saying it, who knew how to communicate using objects, and who spent his last days doing his best to love as much as he possibly could.

Author:

Hufflepuff. Came from the redwoods, which tell me who I am and where I belong in the world. I relate to objects as if they are alive, but as things with identities and properties all of their own, not as something human-like. Culturally I'm from a California Okie background. Crochet or otherwise create constantly, write poetry and paint when I can. Proud member of the developmental disability self-advocacy movement. I care a lot more about being a human being than I care about what categories I fit into.

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