Tonight I am waiting for my father to die.
There is no hope, the congestive heart failure, decreasing kidney function, and diabetes have taken him to the threshold of that door we must all pass through some day. What is beyond that door? No one can know, some say there is an afterlife, and speak of heavenly rewards, or hellish punishments. Some say when we pass through that door, we just cease to be, all our hopes and dreams evaporate into nothingness, others say there is a persistence of spirit, that we may return to existence again some day. Whatever lies beyond, we cannot know until we ourselves pass through. He is in no discomfort, and is not aware of his surrounding, his passing should be peaceful.
I feel very selfish about the impending loss, he will never meet Miaya, likely the last of his grandchildren, my first and maybe only child. He was very excited about her, he knew how long and difficult a path we had traveled to reach this point, but was scared he would not live long enough to see us come home with her. Alas, his fears are about to be realized. He treasured the time he spent in Korea and Japan in the service of his country, and felt a connection to Miaya through his exposure to the asian cultures. I do not fear his loss for myself, but for my daughter who will never meet him, and will never truly know how much he loved her even though he never met her. As the oldest of his six children, the last to marry, and the last to start a family, I will be his age or older when Miaya reaches the age where she may decide to start her family. That is good incentive to be a better steward of my self in order to see her realize her happiness.
Richard Fourez was a farmer, raised six children through some lean years on the farm, served over 20 years as a high school board member, and gave all his children the opportunity to gain the education they desired. He served his country in the Air Force, achieving the rank of Staff Seargent, proud of being assigned to the Strategic Air Command. A doting grandparent, he was proud of all his grandchildren. He was never overly fond of of cats and dogs until late this spring when their house cat surprised them with a single kitten. He became focused on little Oreo, even allowing the kitten to curl up with him in bed. Unconditional love from that small cat surely helped ease his stress and calm his worries as he lay there in the dark.
I sit near the bed in the hospital room, listening to each breath, comparing it to the previous one, wondering if only silence will follow it. Though he struggled with his health the past few years, he was able to travel some, visit his children and friends, and remain as active as his condition would allow. The final decline has been mercifully swift, and I fear the end will not be far away. I find myself considering the possibility that Miaya will be born soon, and that their souls might pass in some celestial hallway, hers on the way to life, and his on it's way to what lies beyond. So, in a way, perhaps they will meet after all.
Michael's father's favorite John Deere tractor led the funeral procession from the church to the cemetery. It was not a tractor he had farmed with, but he had always been fascinated with the old John Deere diesels, and a few years ago he finally bought one. His son Jon restored it, and Richard enjoyed driving it in several parades and tractor rides. Several friends helped get it ready, and a good friend and neighbor drove it on Richard's last trip.