My father died last night.
Pulmonary congestion took him. He was a diabetic, had beginning kidney failure, and pneumonia.
We found him on bed, no pulse, no respiration. I did Cardiopulmonary Resuscitation (CPR) for 20 minutes, all to no avail. We still brought him to the nearest hospital, hoping for revival. They did CPR for another 15 minutes, intravenous fluid (IV), and four ampules of epinephrine.
I don’t know why I’m not crying. Maybe because I was expecting him to die anytime… … …but I didn’t think that it would be now. Maybe because I’m a health care provider, a nurse, who has seen patients come and go. I am knowledgeable in the stages of family development, which includes “losing a loved one,” so you could really say that I was expecting it so. Maybe because I know that the most painful part comes after the burial—when you know that everything, suddenly, is different.
Change. Definitely, this death changes most of what I will do in the future.
I have looked at death as the end of the old, but also as the start of something new. Not… … …like this—unaccounted for, empty-faced individuals, absent sorrow, cold air, a starry night, silence.
P.S.: I’ll be offline for some time; I don’t know for how long.