Dr. Neill Neill

On October 23 I posted A Hard Personal Lesson in Acceptance , in which I explained that my son Richard is dying and I’m getting a difficult lesson.

Two weeks have passed and I have spent the last two days with Richard. He requires a lot more pain medication now. He has deteriorated considerably in the past month. He was frail but mentally sharp a month ago. Yesterday he was fragile, but mentally absent  much of the time. Fortunately, the absences were punctuated by periods of lucidity.

At times as we sat together he would release a long, gravelly exhalation followed by silence. My mind would race to, "Is this his last breath?" Then he would reassert life with a gasp and start breathing again.

When he was with me or his wife or his young adult stepchildren, he was calm and seemed to be at peace. When other relatives came around he would get agitated and upset with the intrusion. I heard him use the word "invasion" on one of those occasions.

He is still hanging on, but seems to have slipped into a coma.

I am grieving the loss of my son. The trauma of losing a child of any age is a part of parenting for which there is no preparation. Richard is 41 and I try to take consolation in the fact that he has had a good run.

He often spoke of being subjected to incredible abuse and cruelty as a child. He spoke of bringing his perpetrators to justice, but decided not to out of respect for others that might be hurt.  In spite of the horrors he endured, he grew into a kind, thoughtful man of unflinching ethics. He exuded a penetrating genuineness and honesty that scared some people. Kids loved him. Old men loved him. I love him.

He was known for his generosity. Until his health no longer allowed it, he maintained a rooming house for derelict men who had nowhere else to go. On the occasions when I visited there, I was struck with the atmosphere of mutual respect and love.

He had promised me a month ago to wait for my return, and in one of his more lucid moments he reminded me that he had kept his promise.

In the last couple of days, he would reach for me and say, "Dad, I love you." We discussed the fact that in the final analysis that was all that really mattered. We both considered ourselves to be truly blessed to have been able to accept his dying and say our goodbyes as we have.

Copyright © Neill Neill. All rights reserved. Dr. Neill Neill maintains an active psychology and life-coaching practice on Vancouver Island, BC, Canada. He is a member of the treatment team at Sunshine Coast Health Centre, a drug and alcohol addiction treatment facility for men. He writes regular newspaper and magazine psychology articles on healing and self-improvement. His goal is to facilitate growth in human consciousness and increase the human store of hope, happiness and generosity of spirit.