The Last Days of My Father's Life

A personal diary by Jim Pierce about his father Jack Pierce

Posted October 5, 2004

June 24-29, 1994

I know more about the last several days of my father's life than the 67 years prior to his
death. He was an enigmatic man, secretive because he worked for the military intelligence
system. He was that way the rest of his life, never talking about too much. Discrete and
closed.

My father's name was Jack Pierce, he was born one of 16 in 1926 to parents born in the late 1800's. I never knew his parents very well and they died while I was young. He was cared for by his mother and older sisters. And eventually went from the shipyards working with his dad to the Navy.

While in the Navy he went to WW II, the Pacific and was adopted by the Marines when
his ship sank.

I don't know whether he was a hero, he never talked about his life very much and rarely about the war. He always said that wars were bad and never made sense but in the same breathe would say he would take up a gun to defend his country at any time and in whatever physical condition. I think he would have done so up until the end.

What matters about the war is that he survived it while thousands did not.

My dad smoked since forever, over 50 years when he died. It was the thing to do, especially in the War and Service. No one really knew or cared about the dangers of cigarettes. The just smoked them. I didn't know about them either, cigarettes were like food, around all the time.

My Dad always said, after cigarettes were declared harmful, that if they killed him with cancer then that is the way it will be. No one understood what that meant, the real effects. Now we all do.

June 24, 1994

We arrived about 2 p.m. Dad was asleep and Mom and Linda were talking in the dining room.

In about a half hour he woke up. He wasn't very coherent but recognized me. His eyes were wide open when he saw me but I could tell he was glad to see me.

He said he felt awful and was in a lot of pain.

Dad insisted to Mom the day before or so, to make an appointment with the doctor
for today and not Monday.

The appointment was for 4:30 p.m. Before we went, Dad was ready to go, he kept
getting up to leave and I kept telling him that it wasn't time. He would lie back down in his chair.

He drank some water, his hands shaking and weak. Take a sip, and take about a
minute to swallow a small mouthful. He nearly dropped his glass.

Later he wanted to smoke, I suppose out of habit. He slowly crept his hand into the front pocket of his pants and pulled out the pack of cigarettes.

He placed a cigarette in his mouth, and tried to light it. He was not coherent enough, the lighter was one of those flip top ones and he was trying to light it without the top up. Mom helped him.

He slowly smoked the cigarette, much to my surprise. The cigarette dangling loosely from his dry lips. Kind of stuck on them, the paper absorbing the little moisture from his lips and causing the paper to stick to them.

He said he was very hot, "Burning up". Mom went over to the thermostat and adjusted the air conditioner while I got a cool wash cloth for his head. He place it on his forehead for a minute and then behind his neck. It seemed to help. I hope so.

The time for the appointment was only an hour or so by now but it seemed longer.

I really looked at Dad and noticed he had lost a lot of weight since I saw him about a month before. His knees were protruding from his leg bone; kind of reminded me of the starving kids on TV.

He kept his glasses on all the while with the case in his front left pocket. This was just like always. Dad with all the stuff in his pockets, ready for action.

He kept looking at his watch, but try as he might he had a hard time figuring out the time so he looked up at the large clock on the wall over the TV. I'm not sure he could clearly see that.

About a half hour before the time to go, he got up, gave me his keys and said "Let’s go." I had to tell him to wait. He did so. Not happy but resigned.

Linda called and she wanted the phone numbers for the Stets' and Don and Toni Anderson. Jan got them from Dad's address book while we were gone to the Doctor's office.

Just before we left, I pulled the Cadillac out of the garage and cooled it down. I turned the air conditioner to high and cold to make sure it was cool enough for him.

Then I went back into the house and with Mom's help, walked him out to the car. He was unsteady and weak. He nearly fell over a couple of times. This was because of the drugs and the lack of food. He hasn't eaten much the past week, maybe 8 or so cans of Ensure, some toast, a couple of glasses of milk, couple spoons full of soup and pudding. This was not all at once, just over the past week. He drank three cans of Ensure yesterday. I thought that was a good sign.

We carefully loaded him into the car and I started out. Every once in a while, Dad would give directions, pointing his bony finger forward and saying" Straight down, past the light" His voice was weak and barely audible.

He seemed mentally collected in the car. I guess the excitement helped jog him awake.

We got to the doctor's office and I tried to park as close as possible but leave some room for the door to open fully. This helped, we carefully helped him out of the car, while he grabbed, as he could, on the door.

He was wobbly and weak. He wanted to walk by himself, but Mom said, "Why don't you
just take my arm." He did.

I opened the door to the office and we walked in. Mom told the receptionist who we were and we sat down. He took a seat in a corner. He was grimacing from the pain and sighed heavily, put his hands to his head, bent over.

A nurse called his name after a few minutes and she weighed him (109 pounds), down from 117 pounds a few weeks before. Then we walked to an examining room.

He slowly eased himself up onto the examining table. She took his pulse, 116, temperature, 96 and blood pressure 127/70.

Then we waited for the doctor He was hunched over, arms, specially the right shaking. He
was in extreme pain.

He asked about the doctor a few times.

The doctor finally arrived, looked at him. I watched his face. He was solemn.

He did a cursory exam, didn't even take off his shirt to check the heart or feel his body. I knew what this meant, it didn't matter anymore. The doctor clipped an oxygen sensor to his index finger on the right hand, it was okay.

Dad said that hi hurt around the abdomen but all around and showed the doctor who said
"Uhn Huh". Said he was in pain and felt terrible. He said, "I don't know what to do about it."

We talked about the pain and Mom said he hadn't eaten much. The doctor prescribed a patch for pain and said that Dilaudid could be used as needed and not given after a specific amount of time.

He said that if this did not work, then we could administer some morphine tablets which he was going to also prescribe. He also talked about a drip morphine which Dad could use but that was not an option right now.

The doctor had teary eyes when he left to check the pharmacy, to see if they had what he was going to prescribe. He said he would be back in a little while.

He was a little later. He explained once again the drugs what they were for, etc. He got up to leave. Mom stayed behind to talk to the doctor for a while.

Dad wanted to walk to the car by himself but had a difficult time doing so, we wandered off into the grass and I put my arm around him and gently guided him to the car.

While in the car, Dad said that he just wanted to take some pills and stop all of this. He said that he knew Mom was suffering because of him and he was responsible. I said he wasn’t that she was taking care of him because she loved him.

He asked about a postcard in the car, a response card, I said it was for the car services this past Monday, he said that the car was due back from the shop in a day or so. I said yeah, even though he was sitting in the car.

Mom finally walked out of the office after her talk with the doctor.

She was crying. I knew what that meant. We went home immediately because he was complaining he was thirsty. After we got him home and settled, we went to the store for the patch.

After giving the order to the Pharmacist at Longs, we went out in the mall to sit down and talk. I told her what Dad said in the car and she told me what the doctor said in the office.

It was hopeless as far as his condition. The cancer had spread all over, the internal organs don't feel pain but the other tissues do. This is what was hurting him.

We agreed that the only thing we could do was to help him die with no pain and as comfortably as possible. We would do that because we promised him we would.

We talked about Bubi coming from Germany. She said that she wondered why he wanted
to come in earnest, since she never told him that it was that bad.

After we got back from Longs, I had Mom get dad up and loosen his shirt while I prepared the patch, I placed it on his right side, it was the flattest point for attachment and seemed the best seal would be there.

He had a heck of a time getting his shirt back on; he wanted to do it by himself but needed help.

He didn't have dinner this evening. We called Steve and I talked to him, filled him in on the situation. He will be coming Sunday.

Linda was upset with Uncle Jim earlier because dad received a card from a stranger at Jim's church. She wanted Dad to accept Jesus so he could go to heaven. Dad just thought it was from Jim and Bobbi and didn't read the contents.

This was good. I told Linda I thought that Jim should have wrote the note himself and not
get a stranger to do it if he really had a strong belief. Linda called Aunt Thelma about this and this was probably passed onto Jim.

While trying to contact Steve in Prodigy (for which I was unsuccessful anyway) we all seemed to gather in the PC room. The kids were very upset as I was. They know that this is very serious. That their Opa was going to die soon. No one in the room wants that to happen.

We had dinner, except Linda and family, they had eaten.

Dad went to bed about 8 p.m. Before he went, Mom was talking with him, caressing his
head. Dad's face was relaxed; it seemed the medicines were working. A tear was in Dad's eye. He knows what will happen.

June 25, 1994

Mom said that Dad did not rest comfortably. He was in pain, grimacing and rubbing.

Uncle Jim called this morning around 8:45, he briefly talked with dad. Mom said he apologized for not calling sooner. Dad didn't really know who he was, in fact asked "Who is this?"

After that Aunt Marie called from New Mexico, she decided to come today, plane arrives in Fresno 3:30 p.m. I went over directions on how to get here. She had them right, she also wanted to know Dad's doctor and phone number.

Aunt Kitty called about Dad, Mom talked with her.

The Hospice lady arrived at 9:45 a.m.

Her name is Mareta (Rita). We answered questions for the forms. She was very nice and we talked to her for about an hour and half. She checked Dad's vital signs, wrote up a list of medications, etc. Liana's cleaned his lips and applied some lip balm. They were dry.

Rita talked with Dad a little. He seemed to like the attentions. He was very calm.

After this we went and talked some more in the dining room. She said she would be there for us, just call. She explained that they had some equipment and lots of help as needed.

We told her we didn't want Dad to suffer or go to the hospital. She agreed this was the purpose of the Hospice. I said we wanted hi to die with dignity. She agreed.

She left some pamphlets for us to read, one on symptoms of approaching death. I read it... Dad has almost all of them, except incontinence, and discoloration of the backside due to pooling of the blood. Dad was awake for a while right after the Rita left. We all went out to talk with him as we could, to be with him while he was awake even if we said nothing.

I said "Hi Pop." and he asked, "Are you going home?" with some disappointment in his voice, I said, "No Pop, I won't leave you."

He said "Good." while I held his hand and he squeezed it. It was as strong as I have felt in quite a while. Complained he was hot so I adjusted the air conditioner and set up a fan for him. He calmed down and dozed off (an on).

Linda went out for the morphine tablets with her family.

She got back with them but we didn't give them to Dad just yet. Another pharmacist said the patch will tale 72 hours to take effect, not 2-6. We gave him a Dilaudid.

Linda called the mortuary in the early afternoon after lunch. She gave the lady basic information about Dad.

Then we decided to go down there and talk with them in person and to bring them the DD-214 and Social security card for copying. We also picked out a coffin, guest book, announcement, and thank you cards. They will handle everything from the time the hospice nurse calls to burial.

Linda was hysterical when it cane to prepping Dad for a 30 minute inspection viewing. They will prep him to make him presentable, with his clothes on, etc. Dad won't be embalmed; the service will be closed casket and held at the Vets Cemetery.

The total cost will be about $4,100.

Dad was talking this afternoon. She seemed to participate more than I have seen before. He is very confused though and very weak. Kind of out of it.

Jan and I went with Mom the Castle AFB. She wanted to buy a few things. We waited outside, talking about Mom and Dad It made me feel better to talk with Jan.

We got home; Dad was awake and talking some.

Linda talked with Steve about the situation and she told him we had made burial arrangements, He was upset and angry at for being left out. Linda said it had to be done. He went on about not being part of the family, about sleeping arrangements and finally hung up on her.

I am concerned with his mental well being. He isn't taking this very well. I think this is a way to avoid his feelings, anger covers a lot.

I went to watch Dad and to be with him now that he was awake.

He smoked a cigarette and it scared me. He nearly dropped it on himself because he nodded off.

He gets confused easily, can't remember things. Mom brought out the scratch-off lotto tickets she bought yesterday. Dad couldn't figure out what he was doing. He was scraping his coin holder but not his ticket. I got it straightened out for him Chrissy completed the task after he got too tired to do it himself. The ticket was not a winner but ours was $10.

I held his left hand, rubbing his skin, very gently. He squeezed my hand sometimes. Brian also held his hand.

I caught him looking at me and I saw his face drooped in sadness and tears in his eyes. I just held his hand tighter. I couldn't take it and left after a while but only for a while. He knows what is happening to him and he knows he is going to die. He doesn't talk about it, he just feels it inside. The emotions he keeps hidden.

Mom is giving him Dilaudid as needed. It seems to help. He doesn't complain of pain anymore. Hopefully this will continue. Maybe the patch is kicking in too.

Dinner was quiet. Linda and family left for the evening.

Uncle Bubi called from San Francisco airport to say he was there and okay. We told Dad. Later Bubi called to say that he could not get a rental car without a credit card. With all of the excitement over this Dad was pretty much wide awake. Mom was excited and distressed about this. At first it was just Ed and I to go, then Mom, Ed and I, finally, Mom and Ed with me behind to care for Dad with Jan.

Jan felt better I was there. I did too. Dad was interested in TV, he watched whatever was on like Saturday Night Live, old Munster Family films. He didn't want to go to bed; he wanted to wait for Bubi and Mom to get home.

He didn't sleep some but was in and out of a light coma.

I felt asleep about 2 a.m., and woke up around 2:30 a.m. when Dad got up to get some fresh water and ice from the fridge. He did this once before while on my watch. His walk was unsteady but he could do it.

About that time, Mom, Ed and Bubi drove up. The timing was good. Bubi said hello and went over and gave Dad a hug and kiss. Dad was bright and wake. He words were stilled slurred but he was communicating well.

I went to bed. Said "I love you to Dad “and "Good night."

June 26, 1994

Dad and Mom were up first. I was amazed at this. I showered and everything and when I saw Dad for the first time that morning I was shook up. He had gotten worse and his coma was more pronounced. He stayed in it for longer periods and his skin was yellowish and grey.

Mom told me later that he stayed up a short while after they got home, he then announce he was going to bed, got up, put his water glass on the counter, turned out the dining area light and went  to the bedroom. After getting in his PJs he literally fell down on the bed, totally exhausted. I had never seen anything like it.

We have been keeping watch over Dad; someone is always there to be with him, holding his hand, rubbing his arm. He responds to this sometimes.

Mom gave Dad his first morphine tablet with Dilaudid as needed. It seems to help him a lot, he doesn't complain about pain very much, just says he feels awful.

Steve got here at about noon; he was shocked at what he saw. I don't think he really understood what condition Dad was in, even though he saw him the Tuesday before. The progress has been rapid.

While we had lunch, Steve stayed with Dad. Steve had lunch on the way down from Reno.

The whole scene was upsetting. Dad, the strong figure, who knew so much, who cold work hard in a hot sun was having trouble sitting comfortable, and difficulty in swallowing. He sometimes coughs up blood.

The afternoon has been very emotional for everyone. Sometimes Dad is lucid and we try to be with him, let him know we are there for him. Someone stays real close to rub him and talk to him, answer questions. He keeps seeing someone out of the corner of his eye, approaching the house. He may believe Aunt Marie has arrived.

He was glad to see Steve and during a lucid moment said so and said the same about Uncle Bubi. Bubi tried, with some success to talk to him about the good times they had, like Dad buying him his first hot dog. He can still remember things but gets confused as to what is immediately going on around him.

We tell him when we can.

Dad looks very frail, his coma is more persistent, and he makes snoring sounds. It isn't sleep or the drug. His arms and legs twitch and move, he scratches his nose periodically all while his eyes are rolled back. Even when they are not rolled back he doesn't see anyone. He is out. You can tell when he is lucid enough to recognize us, it shows in his face. I have stared at him a lot the back couple of days. This may be a drug reaction too.

It makes me so sad to seem him waste away, not eating while the disease shuts his body systems down. The toxins I imagine are affecting his brain and nervous system and causing the coma state.

As everyone realizes what is happening and the emotional wave spreads across all of us. It seem you can only look at him just so long and think about his present state and what good times you had in the past, then the emotions completely take over. You break down. I leave when that happens; usually I meet someone else in the family who has met that emotional wall too. We cry together, in a room, outside at the front door. We are all the same, connected to the same man. The connection is about to be broken.

We talked about this too, in the hall bathroom. I told Mom that after Aunt Marie gets here, I hoped he would go quickly. I couldn't stand to see him suffer any longer. I said I knew now that even the though the pain is under control, the other symptoms make you miserable and during conscious moments you wake up and understand those basic feelings. Add to that the emotional state and thought Dad is having about this, while his family is around him sniffling, crying. He knows but can't do a thing about it. I wonder whether he cares at this point.

We finally got Dad to bed, he didn't want to go. But after a while, he did and Steve and I helped him get his pajamas on and Steve lifted him from the bed while I pulled the sheet and covers down. He had collapsed.


June 27, 1994

After I got up, I checked on Dad. He was still in bed, sleeping, coma. Within a half hour, he was out at his chair, up and ready to go. All dressed and sipping water. He doesn't like a straw but it makes it easier for him. He was alert and conversing if we did most of the talking. He was good, he seems to have made a rally. His face was grey though.

Dad tried to smoke his straw this morning. He looked at it, felt it from one end to another, twirled it around and said, "I don't like to smoke cigarettes this long". He then reached into his pocket and pulled out a pack of cigarettes and said these are the type I like.

The Hospice nurse stopped by late morning. She brought over some papers to sign to make mom the person to make medical decisions and another for no EMS action if an ambulance is called. They were witnessed by neighbors.

By noon, Dad took another pain pill, and was starting to fall asleep. He has been very independent this morning. He says for people to stop hovering and to let him walk alone. He can't of course but we try to be discrete. He locked himself in the bathroom in defiance, keeping everyone out. We found a key just in case.

This afternoon Dad rested and was out of his coma for several hours too. He stayed by his side all the while though Jan and I went to COSTCO just to get away form this situation for a while. The weather was very hot, about 104.

Steve shaved Dad with his razor, he looked better for it. Dad sat in his chair and calmly and without moving much let him do it. When he got to the upper lip he stretched it over his top teeth to pull the skin taut, much like you'd do if you did it yourself.

Dad, in late afternoon decided that he wanted to eat dinner. He thought we would be going out but I told him we were staying in. He said in a slurred voice, "That's fine with me. I don't really care."

He was ready and each time we told him dinner would be done in a little while, he became agitated. He said that we will eat whatever was ready. He said he was never told about dinner plans but wanted it to eat.

Periodically he would say something and I would answer the best I could. Linda received a call from doctor Kumar (a return call). He will have a letter ready for Steve and me for the boss, to show Dad is dying. This is necessary for us to keep our jobs. No trust.

Kids have been on the PC a lot today, way from Pop. I think they are affected more by this than anyone knows. I now I was when a grandmother died.

Dad had his meal of four bites of pork roast cut into very tiny pieces and some German potato salad. He got those small bites down and kept them down.

This was amazing to everyone. He was feisty and hard headed almost like normal. Everyone was glad to see this.

Trying to get Dad to bed where he is in a different position than just laying in his lounge chair is tough. He always says, "In a little while".

This evening was no different. After he tried to smoke a straw again, he decided to destroy it. He doesn't like straws. He went to the bathroom, finished then decided to have a glass of milk. With wobbly legs he made his way to the kitchen.

His will and orneriness keeps him going. He wants no help, only independence. This is becoming more difficult as each day passes. Through the sheer force of his will, he wants to be normal again. He did things today no one thought he could do.

 

June 28, 1994

I heard Mom yell for my brother as I was getting out of bed. I got my pants on and rushed down to the master bedroom, toward her cries for help. My brother was there holding onto Dad. He was slumped next to the toilet, one arm hanging onto the seat. We slowly picked him up and carefully walked him to the bed. Mom was so upset she was speaking in German; something about her side of the bed was the best place for him.

We had a difficult time getting him situated on the bed. He was very weak and with his will, he wanted to still do things his way and preferably by himself.

There we helped Mom wash him form head to toe. Carefully. He was hot to the touch. The cool water helped a lot. After that we put on new PJs. He was groaning, breathing hard, say" Oh my, Oh my".

We talked to him, letting him know we love him, telling him to rest. With all the stimulus of people and events, he wouldn't rest. He talked about the Army and how some parts were bad, something about AWOL. He talked about us, slurring and mumbling word, unintelligible. We reassured him.

He said Jim was a smart guy. I thanked him and told him it was because of him.
I rubbed his back, especially down low. He liked this and went to sleep while Steve held his hand.

We left him alone for a few minutes so he could start his rest. This worked. I went out to the living room and sat down. About that time Uncle Dick from Indiana called. He was asking about Dad. Aunt Marie talked to him after, she said Dad was very weak and couldn't talk, wouldn't know who he was.

I went back, and eventually everyone ended up there. Linda had arrived with her family. We were gathered around him, talking quietly because he was partly conscious now. We expressed our love, and rubbed him arms and held his hands.

He would know who was there for a few seconds. Mom was very upset. She cried and he told her not to. It didn't help. Everyone was crying ... upset that this man we all love is going downhill to his end.

Each of the kids entered to say they loved Dad, first Chrissy then Brian. Dad smiled weakly when Chrissy bent over him and he weakly raised his left arm to embrace her. Opa's girl.

We take turns watching over him. I was first then Steve joined me later. Mom came in and lay down beside him; caressing his face with tears falling on is cheek. He liked her to be there. He loves her until the end. With every bit of strength, his face gets clearer when she is with him.

People have be with him, helping him stay comfortable. Late morning, he took a sip of water. He was turned from his back to his side, a change that may be better for him as far as breathing. He was restless, while Mom sat on the floor next to him, holding his hand. I rubbed his back and he fell asleep again.

The whole process has been tough emotionally.

Jan and I went to the post office to mail the mail box key. We stopped by the store for beer and Kleenex. Both Mom and Bubi gave us money and each told me not to take the other's money. So we bought the provisions with Bubi's money and a few dollars of our own and put the money Mom gave us, back in her wallet.

Linda and I went out to the bank to deposit checks and then to the doctor's office for a letter about Dad for work. It wasn't worded exactly right and the young ladies there said they would retype it. They called around 5 p.m. while I was napping. We will pick them up tomorrow.

Everyone has taken turns staying with him. Sometimes he sleeps, drifting from his light coma to sleep. A Dilaudid was given to him in the late afternoon.

While Dad is in his coma, he is aware of his surroundings and those around him. He refuses to go to the light, and shakes his head. He knows the light but isn't ready.

Dad's coma is light and there is a big difference between it and sleep. His eyes are open and rolled up while in a coma and when he is listening at you he turns his head and opens them all the way. I told him he was the best Dad ever and that I would never leave him, ever, he smiled just a little and later when I told him Mom was just fine, he did the same. It sent chills down my arm.

Dad reacts so much to stimulation such as people being around, he doesn't go to sleep and rest. When he is asleep, his eyes are closed and his breathing pattern is more even and restful. Steve and I agree to these observations. A couple of days ago, Steve said that Dad spoke about something we said while he was in his coma.

We were barely able to get him to swallow a morphine pill. We stimulated him enough to actually get him awake and responding to commands and with him trying his best to help. We warned him we were going to raise him, with Linda directly behind his back propping him up. Then we gave him some water to wet his dry mouth, and then placed the pill in his mouth. He tried to suck water through a straw but was too weak. Steve kind of poured a small amount of water between his lips. He was able to swallow. He needed the pain pill and he wanted it.

In the late afternoon we have left Dad alone for his own good. We felt he would drop off to sleep form his coma if no one was around. We were right. He went to sleep within a few minutes. We check on him from time to time.

June 29, 1994

I woke up to my Dad's moans and muffled cries. He was in pain and had a very bad night. It was difficult for him to swallow. So his medication level was limited for a while. Steve ground up some morphine and water and dribbled a few drops into his mouth. He worked. Every half hour he got a few drops.

He was incontinent during the night and early morning. He didn't like that. We sat him up and he coughed up a mixture of blood and mucous, very thick. He felt better after that. I could feel the rattle in his chest; it shook his small frame from the inside out. His voice and moans were affected by it. His lungs and passageways were filling up. He moaned a lot and we kept stroking him, letting him know we loved him. He knew.

I would tell him who was with him. When Mom entered the room, he would turn his head toward her and pucker his lips and she would give him a kiss. This soothed him.

We got Dad a soaked piece of cloth so he could drink a little and a wet was cloth for his head. His body temperature fluctuated wildly. His circulation did the same, sometimes his fingers were blue and at other times red.

Steve and Mom had very little sleep during the night. What we experienced a first few hours of this morning was what they dealt with all evening. He was restless, needed medicine, in pain and just miserable. The effects on them have been very great. They have been using adrenalin for their energy, no sleep, and no food.

There was no position in which he was comfortable. A hospital bed and a drug drip system were ordered. The drug people, those who set it up wanted money up front and also wanted an IV.

Mom told them the money didn't matter and check would be ready when they got here.
They kept calling back regarding insurance and payment. Very annoying.

Linda sent Ed and me out for hospital gowns, since Dad would be in a bed. We got what we could, not what we really wanted.

Dad again urinated onto the bed, and was very upset at this. We tried to move him to make him comfortable but he was very much in pain. It seemed the pain was beyond any help. He moaned and was in a coma. He knew pain and his eyes moved toward those speaking. When we moved him out of the wet spot he moaned and mumble "no more, no more". The lenses of his eyes developed an opaque ring starting from the outside edge. It grew thicker with every hour.

He asked we move his arms because they were stiff. We did and they were. We turned him onto his left side as he wanted and got him as comfortable as we could.

I went out to the living room while Linda stayed with Dad. We gathered around to discuss the IV proposed by the company planning to use the drug pump in relation to Dad's wishes. We decided that if it were needed to successfully administer the pain medication then yes, otherwise no. At the end of our decision, Linda came running out from the bedroom, she said, "I think he's dead!"

We dashed into his room and were there in a couple of seconds. He was dead. The time of death was 10:45 a.m. Linda said he pulled his face down into the sheets, and made a rattling sound. Bubi who was there just a few moments before, said a little blood appeared at a corner of his mouth. Linda said the sound was something she never heard before from him.

We gathered around as his body cooled. We checked his heart, but it was silent. He did not breathe. His face was relaxed, finally free from pain and stress. It was a bad way to die, at least the process. Linda said his breathing slowed before he died, and then there was silence.

We talked about him, the good things he was about, the way he loved us all and the way we loved him. He kissed his face and said good bye. It was hard to believe he was gone. But there he was, with fingers cool to touch and his face still. I gently closed his eyes.

We shaved him and Mom bathed him. We put on new clean PJs just like he would have wanted. The Hospice nurse, Rita helped. Rita had been called a few minutes after he died, to pronounce death. She did so and called the mortuary.

We sat around him, caressing his peaceful body. Reminiscing, talking about how good a person he was. He was.

Mom smoked one cigarette in his honor.

He was taken away from his home at noon.

After we settled down, I made phone calls to those who needed to know, such as the VA, Social Security, Life insurance, etc. I was gratified that everyone was very kind and concern. It appeared genuine to me and it made everything go smoothly whether answering questions. Later I wrote draft letters for Mom when formally notifying various agencies.

During Rita's visit, she wanted to see the narcotic drugs we had still left. She spilled all the bottles out from a brown paper bag and showed them to her. She made note of them. I asked whether she were going to take them. She said no, they could be flushed down the toilet. Mom grabbed the Dilaudid and the morphine sulfate and left. In the confusion I didn't see where she went. During dinner she talked about this, saying that Rita had taken them Steve kept telling her she did not. Steve, Ed and I saw Mom take them. The search was on, but with limited success. We did find a bottle of Dilaudid but no the morphine. Linda had tried to call Rita but we received a call from another nurse. I asked whether their nurse would take the drug, she said no. I said didn't think so either, that I saw my mother take them though she claims not to have done this.

We tried to get Mom to agree to come back to Northern Nevada this Friday. We plan to go back home to get out affairs in order and return Monday. The funeral is Tuesday, at 2:00 p.m.

Aunt Jane, Uncle Jim and Uncle Dick will be arriving at around noon on the 30th from Indiana. I wished they had come while he was alive, it would have meant more to him I' m sure. Ed will take the Cadillac, with Aunt Marie following behind so she can return the rental car in Fresno. Then all will return to Merced with Ed.

Uncle Bubi cannot make it for the funeral, his plane leaves in the mid morning of the July 5th. We tried as we could to schedule it for Friday but the schedule at the cemetery was full and it was impossible.

We are to see the funeral home people tomorrow.

Later in the evening we walked to the creek nearby, for Opa, Dad, husband, uncle, brother. We went to the spot where the still creek split and though about him for a moment.

The three faces Dad had prior to his death which will forever live in my memory are:

When Uncle Bubi arrived, walked over to Dad, kissed him on his cheek and gave him a hug. Dad's eyes were wide with surprise and he smiled. He said "Hi" in a muffled voice, genuinely happy.

When Chrissy leaned over Dad on the day before he died, hugged him, gave his a kiss and said, "I love your Opa.” Dad said "I love you" and weakly reached up with his hand, patted her head, smiled and chuckled.

When Mom entered the bedroom an hour before he died, and I told him she was there and he moved his head around and upward, puckered his lips for a kiss. She kissed him.

I made four promises to Dad before he died. It was about two weeks before we drove down to Merced this time. He reclined on the bed in the PC room and with tears in his eyes said he didn't think he was going to make it. He wanted to clearly write his instructions down, I typed as he dictated. The four promised which I made during our time together were:

He would not be in pain.

Mom would not suffer; I was to take care of her.

I would make funeral arrangements, carrying out his last wishes such as a military funeral at the new vet’s cemetery.

I would contact those on his list such as the VA to insure the transition would be smooth.

I did them all as he wanted.  Mom passed on July 1 1997, three years, three days after Dad did.