By P J Liddy
I lean forward and hold his head in my hands. I slowly start to sing his favourite hymn:
“I am a child of God,
And he has sent me here,
Has given me an earthly home
With parents kind and dear.”
Tears trickle down his face.
“It’s ok, Dad. You are safe. Don’t be frightened,” I whisper.
His breathing is now rattled, Cheyne–Stokes irregular.
The seconds between his breaths become longer, each one more earnest than the last.
I cuddle him. I kiss him on the forehead and whisper, “I love you.”
And then it all stops.
He has gone.
A very moving story.
I had to look up “Cheyne–Stokes irregular”. I liked this story and the reversal of roles.
Emotional story. Well written. The only criticism would be that didn’t know what Cheyne-stokes meant and it took away from the flow a bit for me. Otherwise I enjoyed it.
Ditto. Delicately told.
Well done PJ. Unfortunately, I’ve had this experience with my own father’s passing about 4 years ago. Eerily similar to what you’ve described here, so this piece was relatable for me and I can feel the efficacy of it in your words.