Last night, was a busy one for the family. I went alone to Boulder for my weekly class in Anand Vadehra’s “Quantum Astrology: Interface to Your Infinite Potential.” David and Kevin went out to dinner together. (They have a 2-man support group, as Dad’s loving, longtime sons-in-law and as agnostics married to spiritual women who are far from home.) Suzanne stayed with Dad, and Geoff joined her for a time. Yesterday afternoon, Geoff got an uncharacteristic urge to visit Dad right away. Geoff said his goodbyes to Dad. Good timing. Sue thought maybe Dad’s spirit had already left his breathing but unresponsive body.

David returned to Dad’s house after Geoff left, I think, but Sue told him about the visit, and Geoff elaborated later today. I dragged home late, to find David waiting up for me. He passed on what Sue had told him. I was too emotionally tired to socialize. I don’t think I even asked David about his dinner with Kevin!

I didn’t have any physical caretaking to do with Dad. Sue had already checked his pants and found them to be dry still. I phoned hospice about the 24 hours of dry underpants and about the periodic huffing(?) breaths he had been doing for the past day or so. The nurse suggested Dad’s kidneys have probably shut down, and breathing changes come near the end.

I fetched my computer and went to sit next to Dad, so he wouldn’t be alone. I finally was able to sit quietly enough to think, to update my journal, and to edit and post the last of my already-written January blog posts.

For about 15 minutes before midnight, Dad’s lips were working slightly but regularly. I thought he might be talking to someone on the Other Side. David came in to say “Goodnight” to Dad and me. He rubbed Dad’s head while talking to him, and Dad’s lips kept working. He did not respond to David’s voice or touch at all. Dad’s eyes were open but did not respond to motion or new light. Hmm.

After David left for bed, I concentrated on my blog. When I finished all I could do, I looked up at Dad again. It was 1:45 AM. Dad’s color looked a little “off.” He had a last surprise for me—a sweet, small, Mona Lisa smile on his face. I WISH I had taken a photograph of it; by morning it had relaxed away. But I saw it! He had a silent, gentle, happy passing.

I got up, plugged my computer back in at the dining table, and went downstairs to get ready for bed. When I came back up, I finally touched Dad’s head; his temperature was indeed a little cool. He was gone.

 Congratulations, Dad. You made it at last! Be free, spirit; go check up on Kathy in Spain. You can do that now, easy-peacey.

As I write this a week later, I am once again—still–filled with happiness for him. He finally escaped his body!