Musings of Lanna Lee Maheux

What a weekend we had. All last week we were gearing up for a move, Mom and Dad were moving to a smaller home and selling their large house. The big move was on Saturday. Bill took work off last week and helped Mom move smaller boxes and set up the new digs. I stuck around the house and hung out with Dad – fortunately I was able to work at the same time too.

I’m still not ready to detail exactly how the weekend panned out. But I wanted to point out some people outside our small circle (Me, Mom, Bill and Edmund) who helped enormously throughout the move and Dad’s vigil. Aunt Barbara Robinson spent the week helping Mom pack and keeping us in line. Cousin Jim Morin and his wife Tracy came down on Saturday to help us move and eventually to sit with Dad as he passed. Bill’s friends Timmy, Carl and Peter helped Jimmy and Billy move stuff from the house to the new mobile home or tractor trailer (for the stuff going up north to Camp Cull.) We wouldn’t have been able to make it through the weekend without these folks.

And then there was Suzy. Who arrived on Friday to help Mom and Aunt Barbara finish packing and set up the new home. When Dad saw her, he told her “I’m going to die today.” And, when it was clear that Dad was on his way out, she took a day off work to stay in vigil with us. Suzy helped us keep Dad comfortable, and orchestrated everything so we didn’t miss a thing. And we laughed. And we cried. And Suzy knew what to do. I am not sure if it was because she’s been there before or because she has some sort of gift for it, my suspicion is that it’s a little from column A and a little from column B. It was Suzy who gathered us together to hear Dad’s final words on Friday night and Suzy who gathered us on Saturday at the end, when Dad’s breathing changed. If it weren’t for Suzy, Dad would not have been as comfortable as he was. And I bless her for it.

And she kept us laughing – which is what Dad would’ve wanted. The hospice nurse was in on Friday and after hearing what was happening with Dad, she ordered a bunch of drugs and gave us some instruction. If there was a fever, the hospice care kit had Tylenol we could give as a suppository.

Since Dad was doing so poorly Friday, we decided, Me, Mom, Aunt Barbara and Suzy, to sleep in the living room with Dad. It was a regular slumber party. We all tried to fall asleep, but Dad was having difficulty breathing. So Suzy and I sat next to him for a while to make sure he was okay.

Every few minutes, Suzy was checked/felt Dad’s forehead. I didn’t realize what she was doing until she said, “The nurse said to watch for a fever, but I’ve never heard of a cancer patient getting a fever.”

I look at her. “You just want to give him a suppository.”

“You’re right,” she says.

And we burst into laughter.

What I guess I want to say is that because of Suzy, we were free to give Dad a beautiful send off. With laughter and tears. And a feeling of rightness.

Don’t get me wrong, I’d much rather have my Dad alive and kicking. Driving my Mom nuts because he refuses to wear his teeth. But if he had to go, this was as it should have been.

This is the last picture taken of Dad. It was taken on February 28th, while he was still in the hospital. There was no opportunity to take another one. Funny how that happens. You always think there is more time, until it slips away.

And now we are left behind to figure out how we can live without him. Life seems a bit duller. He was supposed to live forever. Didn’t God get the Memo?

I suppose we’ll survive. We’ll get by on firsts. The first Easter, first Mother’s Day, the first Father’s Day, the first 4th of July, the first Thanksgiving, and the first Christmas without him. We’ll have some practice. Right now I’m working my way through the first Tuesday without him. So far, so good.

I miss him.

I don’t see this getting better for a long time.

I want to write about what happened this weekend. But I just can’t. Not really. Not yet.

If you don’t already know, my Dad died on Saturday. He had stage 4 small cell lung cancer. We found out he was ill in February. It was very fast. Too fast.

Here is what we posted on Dad’s Facebook page:

3/24/2012 – We are sorry to report that Walter Maheux passed away peacefully this evening at 8:10 p.m. surrounded by family at his home in Westbrook.

Last night he a moment of clarity, also surrounded by his loved ones, and he told us, “Don’t think I don’t notice all the angels around me. Family, that’s what’s important.” and “I love you all.”

We were blessed to have Walter/Dad/Uncle/Friend in our lives. Thank you all for your kind words and prayers. Love to you all ~ Lanna, Dottie, Billy, and Edmund.

It hasn’t quite sunk in yet. I haven’t broken down. I’ve cried, but I fear a melt-down may be in order. And that’s okay. Dad deserves a melt-down or two. He wouldn’t want us to be unhappy, but tough.

We are sitting in vigil with Dad. He seems to be in some distress, and we’ve started giving him more medications. This might be it, or not. We aren’t sure. Instead of taking things a day at a time, we’re going on an hour at a time. We’ve all been assured that this is a natural progression of dying. Whatever.

We’re still moving Mom and Dad to the mobile home tomorrow. Dad would want us to do it because he’d want Mom to be all set. It’s just another glorious day in suck city!

Aunt Barbara and Cousin Suzy are here with us. We’re all going to have a slumber party with Dad tonight. Bill’s going to go up and sleep in Mom’s room, he’s running this rodeo tomorrow and will need the rest.

I must say, in spite of what is going on, we are fairly upbeat. Having Suzy here is a big help, she’s a firecracker and helps lighten the mood. And she laughs at all the wrong jokes Bill and I tell – and then she makes her own.

This picture is of me in a better mood. You will thank me for not snapping a self-portrait right now. For I am grumpy. Oh, so grumpy.

I probably just need some sleep. But this whole thing we are going through really sucks. And my positivity has taken a nap (a dirt nap, if you will.) [gallows humor. gotta love it.]

So I be grumpy and whatnot and you can’t stop me.

BTW: The internet is made of cats.

[Okay, now I'm slightly less grumpy.]