Everything we do on our journey through life is a search for truth, for self, for love; the supreme happiness of life, though, is to discover, somewhere along that ever-winding journey, we really had been loved and the words we needed to hear were there, waiting to be spoken.

My Father's Gift

Through the tracheotomy tube that pierced his throat, a raspy voice asked "You came all the way from Toronto to see me?" His eyes were covered with eye shields and sunken, sallow cheeks from months of malnutrition had altered the look of his face. He struggled to whisper "Thank you - I love you."

Her father’s suffering with emphysema had gone through medical and spiritual valleys and he had emerged several times to discover that some profound things had transpired during his anesthetized comatose states. He had defied death and rebounded several times. His extended life was a miracle, but this time, approaching his 79th birthday, he knew he was was near his end. And so he thanked her. 

She wasn’t looking for thanks. She was there for him because, as his daughter, she had tried to be dutiful, diligent, loving and giving. She thought of the endless hours they, his family, had spent in emergency rooms, the numerous consultations with the Doctors, the encouragement her sisters and she had given their mother, the constant hope and his stubborn refusal to give up. In the process, they gently stroked his face, held his soft, aged hand, swabbed his tongue with lemon sticks, and placed ice chips on his parched lips when he was able to swallow.

She still, all these years later, did not know specifically what her father was thanking her for, but she did know that it felt good, and when he said I love you, it felt even better. She believed now, with certainty, that the course of events that had kept him hospitalized for 2 months was the course that needed to be taken by all of them - his family. He had been granted the gift of being able to rectify past wrongdoings before he died, and they were granted the gift of his newfound awareness. 

As his body wasted away, fever and delirium alternated with prolonged periods of sleep from which he could not be roused and they came to accept that he was going through what he needed to in order to leave this world at peace.

Her father transmitted his legacy to her in his “I Love You” whisper in the respiratory care unit of St. Mary’s Hospital in Montreal. He showed gratitude, humility and love. He was never a man of unnecessary words and he had not always been able to be calm or affirming. In fact he was often critical and irritable. But in the moment of his departing spirit, it all came together - his smile, his warmth, and his child-like sincerity. A moment - a smile - and a few words were her father’s gift to her -  a gift filled with remembrance and forgiveness.