On Friday night, April 10th, my father, Clark Hanson, suffered a massive stroke My mom, Jean, was the one who found him and he was totally paralyzed on one side of his body, his face also was paralyzed and he was unable to speak or sit up or help himself in any way. She called me in and then she called 911 and help came quickly. Everyone was very kind and took excellent care of us. They took Daddy to the hospital in an ambulance and members of the fire department stayed with my mom and I until the next door neighbor came to drive us to the hospital as I was too shaky to drive safely all the way to Medford.
By the time my mom, and I were admitted to see him in the emergency room, he was not able to see, speak or move much at all. We were told that the damage was so severe that there was no hope of his surviving, that he would probably go within a few hours given the extent of the damage - a huge hemorrhage, deep in the core of his brain. He had left written instructions not to try to keep him alive with any kind of intervention procedures.
He was moved up to the hospice unit and my mom and I were welcomed to spend the rest of the night with him. They found an extra cot so we each had our own bed to rest on during our all night vigil. I had called my sister, Carole, as soon as possible and had told her what had happened. She left immediately and drove 6 hours during the night, arriving around 5 in the morning.
I was so grateful to have her come so quickly as Daddy was in great distress and she knew what to do to help calm him down and make him more comfortable. She could talk to the hospice people in their language to make sure he got the very best of care. She’s got powerful healing energy in her hands and is trained in massage. It was such a relief to have her there, knowing what to do that would be best for him. She has the knowledge of how hospitals work and what needs to be done.
As far as we could tell Daddy was gone, but then we saw little signs and indications that at times he could possibly still hear us.
Sometimes he would twitch muscles as if he was aware of what we were communicating. A couple of times he choked as if he were trying to talk when someone said something I think he might have been disagreeing with.
Carole stayed with Daddy round the clock at the hospital and I was pretty much home with Mom for the next couple of days. Then, three days later (Monday) my sister and Mom and I created a song circle ceremony to celebrate his life. We sang his favorite songs to him and shared our love with him and let him know how deeply loved he was by all of us and that it was ok to go. My brother was in NZ and he and many of our close friends tuned in as well and sent loving energy to all of us as we sang to Daddy. I hope that our singing, the beautiful words my Mom spoke, and my sister's healing touch helped him realize our love is with him always.
He was transferred to a nursing home on Tuesday and I was able to spend time Tuesday night and most of the day on Wednesday singing to him, while my sister focused on caring for my Mom. On Thursday afternoon I was with him when he passed.
It was quite an eloquent, peaceful death process and I am in awe both of the death process itself and of my father and how magnificently he both lived his life and died. I feel incredibly grateful and blessed that I was able to be there with him through his process of dying.
It was amazing to watch Daddy at the hospital and then watch the tulips at home and observe that even though they had been cut off and were in a process of dying, they were still growing and developing, opening and closing, evolving.
During the hours I was alone with him, I sang songs from the "good old days", campfire songs, WWII love songs, songs I've written, and songs from musicals. He seemed to like the ones from the Sound of Music, "the hills are alive, with the sound of music," "Climb Every Mountain," and "Edelweiss." I looked out his window and watched the hills turning purple as the wildflowers bloomed while I sat holding his hand.
One song I sang to him near the end that last afternoon was “Pelicans”. It felt like when I sang the second verse, he got it, truly felt that it was all right to let go and soar.
One song I sang to him near the end that last afternoon was “Pelicans”. It felt like when I sang the second verse, he got it, truly felt that it was all right to let go and soar.
Pelicans flying and gliding and soaring in rhythm
Pelicans fly in formation along the beach
Waves in the ocean and wings in the air flow in rhythm
Pelicans flying and gliding have so much to teach
Come up high and fly with me,
Feel the joy of synchrony.
See the beauty we create
Feel it as we celebrate
We fly
Together
We fly
In rhythm
Pelicans flying and gliding and soaring in rhythm
Pelicans fly in formation along the beach
Waves in the ocean and wings in the air flow in rhythm
Pelicans flying and gliding have so much to teach
Leave your troubles and your strife
Feel the joy of living life
See the beauty we create,
Feel is as we celebrate
We fly
Together
We fly
In rhythm
Pelicans flying and gliding and soaring in rhythm
Pelicans fly in formation along the beach
Waves in the ocean and wings in the air flow in rhythm
Pelicans flying and gliding have so much to teach
I free sang to my Dad, letting my voice soar, and I also very quietly created "Om" spirals and expanded them out to include both my dad and his roommate, Scott.
A little after 4:45 pm I was talking with Scott about what kind of a night my Dad had had (very peaceful) and Scott told me that he had checked on my Dad every morning first thing and that this morning, Thursday, Dad had been breathing very quietly and shallowly. Scott said he told my father not to leave on his watch, that he needed to wait to die until family was there to be with him. I chuckled and said, "Well, if my Dad can possibly do that, I know he’ll try, cause he’s a very loving and caring man and always tries to help people out." I looked over and saw that my Dad was totally still. He had simply and quietly stopped breathing. He was gone.
After he left his body, I drove out into the country, needing to feel love around me, hoping to be with friends who have lovely acreage, a place I had lived for a few months a couple of different times. As we sat outside in their lovely garden, I shared the story of Daddy’s departure with them. A white dove circled above our heads with all its feathers fully fanned out, holding a position in a way I’ve never seen any bird do before, gliding and soaring above us. It felt like Daddy’s peaceful spirit was saying “See, I’m soaring now! I’m at peace.”
Death is such an intense process for everyone involved. I had no idea what it was like for people to go through this -- both for the dying and for the surviving family and friends. Surrounding Daddy’s death here in Ashland, Oregon, we've been experiencing an incredibly awesome, vitally alive springtime like I’ve never experienced before in my life. I have so much appreciation for every little bit of life after watching my Dad's body gradually shutting down it’s ability to perceive with different senses.
I had many opportunities to interact with him meaningfully and playfully in the weeks before he died, while he was still awake and aware. I observed, and he and I talked together, about how his body was failing him in many little ways that were really adding up, making more and more things he was trying to do very difficult for him. He called me to come and help him transplant a huge bush the day he died, and I am so grateful that he was able to be that active right up to the end.
My heart goes out to all of you who knew him and loved him and are feeling his loss. My mom, has asked that people not send flowers. I would like to offer the suggestion that if you feel a need to send flowers, that you plant some live ones where lots of people will see them and enjoy them. Help people remember how beautiful this life is, while they are still alive and awake and aware - and still have the capability to perceive the magic and wonder of this living Earth.
Personal notes or cards sent by snail mail would most meaningful and welcome.
Thank you for all your loving concern for the members of my family,
Leslie Lightfall
April 18, 2015
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