I spent time alone with him, before the night nurse came in to wash the body. It wasn't coincidence that she was someone that I met and worked with during the Presidential campaign. And then the same Hospice nurse who had attended to Mom when she died in February was there as well. She said that it was special to be there for both of them. We talked about how he seemed to give up after Mom died--not wanting to eat, talk or participate in activities. After being together for so many years, I suppose it just was too much to fight to live anymore.
And when the funeral home staff came to take him away, his gurney was draped in the American flag. Another special and reverential act that was tremendously moving to me. He was a veteran of WWII, serving in the Pacific on landing crafts. The fellow from the funeral home was also kind, and physically reminded me of my own father--tall and distinguished looking with white hair.
I'm glad that I spent time with Pop and pushed him around the complex over the weekend. He sat in the sun and listened to the birds. We went to a meditation garden, and he seemed to enjoy being outside. I told him about the vegetable garden and what I was harvesting, how his cat was doing and that C. was out of town for a few days. He seemed to be tranquil and peaceful.
I debated about whether to call my wife, but thought that she would want to know. So I talked with her this morning, and she seemed accepting. I want her to enjoy the rest of her vacation. I'll go to the funeral home this morning and make calls to his siblings. Everything is taken care of here.