Go Rest High On That Mountain

I’m not completely sure why this title seems fitting, but I’m going with it.  This morning I got a call from Mom at 4:45am letting me know Dad had fallen again and she and the caregiver could not get him up.  This is the third fall in as many days, so he’s sore to say the least.  I guess they were both worried about hurting him further, so they called me in.  Oddly enough, I have figured out how to get Dad up without causing him (much) further pain.  I’ve been told by a family friend, a psychiatrist, that when Someone with Parkinson’s (or any cognitive disorder) have a trauma (a fall, for example), it can actually trigger something similar to PTSD.  In Dad’s case, he starts hallucinating more and believing things like Mom is running around on him. The hardest part there is convincing Mom that she doesn’t have to explain herself, but I get it.  She simply doesn’t want him believing what certainly isn’t true.

One new thing that’s been happening is that Dad is mentioning his family more.  He told the nurse the other night that he had seen his parents and sister.  The other night, the nurse heard him over the monitor and went in to check on him.  She sat down next to him and just asked the simple question, “Mr. Jack, are you okay?”.  He quickly responded that he was trying to have a conversation with his mother and that the nurse was sitting on her lap and needed to get off.  This morning the nurse said he was talking a lot about his sister.  He was telling stories and making it sound like he just recently spoke to her.  When he fell this morning, he told the nurse and Mom that he needed to go see his mother.

I posted something about this the other day on social media, just because I have an active imagination and what I would call a true faith, and yes, I believe when we’re near the end – could be a few days, could be a couple of years – those who have gone before us come back to prepare us for the transition.  A friend commented that he has one foot on both sides now.  At first, I was a little frustrated at the comment, then I realized she’s right.  Another friend send me a picture that portrayed someone’s belief of what happens after death – the tears of pain and sadness turn to tears of joy when they’re reunited with their loved ones.

Call it a comfort mechanism. Call me crazy.  But I am really starting to feel like my Grandparents and Aunt are coming to Dad to start to preparing the way for him to be with them again.  It hurts to say, but it also hurts to see this strong, intelligent, selfless, and faith filled man who raised my brother and I and always took care of us now needing our help just to do the basic things of every day life.   I’m not sure anyone caught it yesterday at the doctor’s office, but when it was mentioned that Dad would most likely end up in a facility due to his illness, he quietly said, “I just want to be home”.  Again, call me crazy, but I’m starting to think ‘home’ is with his parents and sister.  And I’m okay with that.

I don’t have a lot of memories of my Grandparents.  I was seven when Grandpa passed and I want to say nine or ten when we lost Grandma.  But what I do have is a strong and proud man in my Grandpa, and a loving, kind soul in my Grandma. Both I can see in my Dad.  I also see parts of his sister – a true love for family, a stubbornness, and a willingness to care and do for others.  And her husband, my Uncle Fred.  To be reunited with that hearty laugh someday is something I look forward to, and I’m sure Dad does too.

God and I had a conversation when I was driving back up to my house this morning.  I simply asked that if Dad’s time is close, it was okay with me.  Not that my opinion matters in this, but I want what Dad wants.   I know people often think God doesn’t answer, but sometimes if you just shut up and listen, he does.  At that moment, the Vince Gill song ‘Go Rest High on that Mountain’, came to mind.

So, Go rest high on that mountain
Son, your work on earth is done
Go to heaven a shoutin’
Love for the Father and the Son

Dad loves this song, and I think it’s very fitting.  He’s spent his life doing for others.  One common theme I’ve always come up with in my writings about him has been that he does things so others don’t have to.  But he can’t anymore.  His body is old and frail, his mind still strong, but often fails or diverts him.  The fact that he’s seeing and talking to his mother, especially in times where he’s fallen and needs a hand up, I’m finding comforting.  As much as it hurts to say, go rest high on that mountain.  Son, your work on earth is through.  But until God decides it’s time for you to meet, I’ll continue to take care of you as you have always taken care of me.  Say hi to everyone for me next time you see them.  I miss them almost as much as I know I’ll eventually miss you.