It is 6:35 am on the morning after my Father's death. I can't sleep and so rather than lie in bed with tears slowly dripping from my eyes as I remember dad, I choose to take hold of the quiet morning hours and pen a few lines about this experience for the benefit of those who could not be present for his final moments.
TW (Bill) Gardner died at 9:25 pm on 2 September 2010, just under one month after celebrating his 82nd birthday. Dad was diagnosed with cancer of the kidney a couple of months ago. Because of the location of the cancer and other medical factors he was told that not only was the cancer inoperable, but also that he had not much time to live. Initial estimates gave him about a year … sufficient time to go on a last cruise to Hawaii with mom, enjoy Thanksgiving with the family, spend a last Christmas (where perhaps this time he could take a few minutes and as patriarch of the family pass on some final words of counsel and advice), and then beyond into an uncertain future. In the end, none of those things that he was looking forward to were possible.
Mom called me on Tuesday and told me that dad had taken a turn for the worse. I had previously purchased airline tickets so that I could be with him on the labor day weekend and was now somewhat worried that I might not be with him in his final hours...his life expectancy was now days instead of months. Selfishly, I pleaded with God to preserve dad's life until I could be with him one last time and I am now so grateful to report that God answered that prayer.
The circumstances that bring me to this point are, in and of themselves, somewhat remarkable. In my work at Sandia National Laboratories I am part of a small software team that is working on a project to develop a communications layer for future satellite systems. An upcoming demonstration of the project required that my piece be ready in late August. Accordingly, I began working overtime to meet the deadline and it is just those overtime hours that allow me now to be here with the family. I completed my part of the project the day before my arrival here and I believe that God had a hand in helping me finish on time so that I could be here and not be concerned or worried about my work.
I spent a restless Wednesday night. It was hard to get to sleep knowing that dad's condition was deteriorating rapidly. I awoke about 2 am and then was in and out of sleep until finally rousting myself from bed for my early morning seminary class at 5:15 am. As I lay there I contemplated the possibility of being mouthpiece in giving my father a final priesthood blessing and was blessed to find the words that I would later use.
My flight to Salt Lake City was uneventful, unless you count the number of tears that somehow leaked from my eyes whenever I closed them and reminisced on my life's experiences with dad. On the leg from Phoenix to Salt Lake I sat next to a middle aged father who was taking his three pre-adolescent kids to Pleasant Grove for a family reunion. I observed how carefully he managed his little flock and thought how much he was like my father … a caring and loving parent.
My sister Valorie was kind enough to pick me up at the airport and bring me home. She was in good spirits but it was also obvious that we were both dealing with the same waves of tender emotions about dad. My pockets began to fill with tear stained tissues as I tried unsuccessfully to hold them in. She filled me in on the latest developments. Dad was in a lot of pain and hadn't eaten or really had much to drink for two days.
Darrell, my brother, was shouldering much of the responsibility for administering relief and tending to his physical comfort and mom was holding on.
I arrived at about 8:00 pm to find a house full of family...Darrell and his local family, Dallen and Maako from Phoenix, Valorie, Mom, and later Mike and Mille with Jodie. We exchanged teary hugs and tissues were a popular commodity.
Dad was on his side in a hospital bed provided by a local hospice organization. He lay in a loose fetal position with eyes closed and his breathing labored. Dallen sat at the head of the bed and was lovingly stroking dad's shoulder. Darrell was tending to the pain medications, keeping dad's mouth moist, and was so gentle and loving with his care. I made my way to a stool at the side of his bed and took his hand. I announced my presence to him, but because of the pain medications and my quivering voice, I doubt that he even heard me. There was no visible response. I just sat there looking at the father I loved and tried my hardest to hold back the tears, but they would not be abated.
We spent the next hour taking turns with dad, calling family and apprising them of the situation. Dad would sometimes moan because of pain but Darrell was quick to administer relief. Jody, a licensed CNA, took vital signs, which were faithfully recorded in a small notebook. His condition was deteriorating … blood pressure 60 over 24, heart rate fast and weak. At 8:50 pm dad's moaning became more intense and Darrell provided his next hourly dose of pain medication. We waited several minutes for the medication to take effect and then gathered the family.
Mom offered a simple prayer in which she, with cracked and wavering voice, asked God to bless dad and help each of us. We then passed around the tissues to everyone and the Melchezidek priesthood holders gathered at the head of the bed for the blessing … Darrell, Michael, Dallin, and myself. I acted a mouthpiece. We layed our hands upon his head. It took some time before words would leave my mouth and in my strongest possible, but quivering voice said, “Thurman William Gardner, in the name of Jesus Christ, and by the power of the Melchezidek priesthood that we hold ….”
I told my Father how much God loved him and was looking forward to accepting him back into his presence. I reminded him of how much his wife, children, and grandchildren loved him and thanked him for his example of service and love in our lives. I then released him from the cares and concerns of this mortal life and invited him into the presence of God. I assured him that departed family would be there to greet and joyfully welcome him home. Finally I blessed him with the peace the God promises to those who have been appointed unto death and reassured him that God would be with him in his final moments. I closed the blessing in the name of Jesus Christ.
There have been few experiences in my life that have been so difficult. Only the dedication of my grandfather's grave and watching my dog Shadow being put to sleep rival the upwelling of emotions that I then felt. The family gathered around around the bed as best as we could, each struggling inwardly with the imminent possibility of dad's departure. Few words were spoken as the feeling of the room changed to one of stillness.
Mom took her seat on the small stool next to the bed with Valorie and Mille and her sides. By 9:20 dad's breathing patterns changed from the previous labored breaths to calmer and shallower ones. For the first time he opened his eyes but could not speak. He starred blankly straight ahead into the pillow. Mom stroked his hand lovingly all the while struggling to keep the tears and emotions in check. His breathing slowed and then eventually stopped altogether.
Mom raised up, leaned over the bed, and offered a final kiss good-bye. Dad was gone and God had answered not only our pleading prayers, but also the words of a priesthood blessing. His parting from us was peaceful and I believe sweet.
I so wish that I could report that some of us in the room witnessed evidence that someone from the other side of the veil had come to meet him, perhaps his own father, but such is not the case. There were no clues from Dad in his drug induced state of semi-consciousness, other than perhaps the opening of his eyes, that could signal to any of us such an extraordinary spiritual event was occurring, even though reports of such visitations in the final moments of life are common in our family history.
In the end, God leaves us with one thing to hold to … Faith in Jesus Christ and the promises passed to us, through his holy prophets, of returning back into his presence with glorified and resurrected bodies.
“And, if you keep my commandments and endure to the end you shall have eternal life, which gift is the greatest of all the gifts of God” [D&C 14:7]
Thanks dad for showing us what it means to faithfully endure to the end --
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