Dying is Weird - A Journey of Enlightenment by Kathleen Westberg

Author:Kathleen Westberg [Westberg, Kathleen]
Language: eng
Format: azw3
Tags: Self Help/Inspiration
ISBN: 9781421887012
Publisher: 1st World Publishing
Published: 2015-03-05T16:00:00+00:00

The Scent of Death

It was in September of the following year when the nursing supervisor on duty at the nursing home called to say my dad had fallen again. He was on his way to the hospital in an ambulance to have x-rays to see if anything was broken. The fire alarm had gone off, she said, and one of the two nursing assistants that were with him went to check and see if there was anything wrong. When she didn’t return, the other assistant left my dad alone on the toilet. He had gotten up by himself and fell trying to get out of the bathroom.

I was livid. I knew this would be the end for him. I raced to the home and walked up to the nursing station. Everyone’s eyes avoided mine.

“Are you trying to kill him?” I shouted, “This is the end for him you know!” They nodded quietly. And it was the end—or at least the beginning of it.

Dad had suffered another broken hip. In October, he would celebrate his ninety-ninth birthday, but he was failing fast. He had an uncle that lived to ninety-eight and he always hoped he could live that long. His three sisters had all lived to be in their eighties. The longevity genes were strong in our family. I was glad he had lived so long because he had mellowed with age and became more family-orientated. Maybe he had worked out some karma in those last few years. He certainly had become more compassionate to my mom when she was so very ill, sitting up with her late into the evening and holding her hand, trying to comfort her in the best way he could. When the movie On Golden Pond came out, everyone said that was my dad to a tee. He not only looked like Henry Fonda, but he had the personality of the leading character Henry played in the movie. The similarities were eerie.

Since I lived the closest and was always there for my parents, they called on me in times of trouble, like the time my dad called my work. At this time, dad was in his early nineties and mom in her mid eighties.

“You have a call from your dad,” my co-worker Georgia said.

“Kathleen, you have to come and get me. Momma is kicking me out of the house.”

Being 350 miles away, this would be no easy task, and it didn’t sound like something my mother would do, especially at this age. I knew they argued a lot throughout their marriage, but I always thought it was more for special effects when any of us kids were around.

“What are you being kicked out for?” I asked.

“Well, the neighbor dropped off a little kitten and I wanted to keep it. Momma said she would have to do all the work to care for it and she isn’t about to take care of any kitten and me too, so either the kitty goes or I go.”

This would call for some mediation, I thought.

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