Things I've been meaning to write about

A little more than a week ago I was sitting at the hospital. Dad was telling C and I about this recumbent bike that he had purchased for Mom. Mom had gotten one at a garage sale this summer and was using it, but Dad (after doing research) learned that an upright exercise bike would be really bad for her back and she should use a recumbent one. It was a surprise.

Fast forward to Thursday morning. Dad had died two days earlier, I had gotten there the day before, and Mom, brother J and sister K and I were all at the house. K had just laid down to take a nap and Mom and J were in the basement. There was a knock on the door. I went to answer it. The UPS guy was there, truck backed up to the driveway and he didn't say a word - he just looked at me expectantly... I had NO idea what was going on. He finally said, "I have a big box. It's really big. And it weighs a ton." As soon as he started saying all of this, I realized what he had and my eyes immediately filled with tears. Here was Dad's last present to Mom. First I ran to the truck to help this guy, blubbering the whole time and then J came out, Mom following, both asking questions and I knew I couldn't do this alone. I ran to wake my sister K and told her what was in the driveway and we both ran out to explain to a very confused Mom what was going on. It was a very bittersweet time.
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when Dad was in the hospital with his pneumonia, he had a respiratory therapist (RT from now on) come in every four hours to do nebulizers with Dad. They were wonderful - they really opened his airway and made him breathe a lot easier.

So at the hospital on Tuesday night, Dad had passed away an hour earlier and Karen and Jodi were out of the room and Cindy and Mom were sitting in there still with Dad. The door opens, the curtain moves aside and in walks the RT. He looks from Dad to Mom and Cindy to Dad to Mom & Cindy and says, "Is he ready for his treatment?"

Cindy and Mom look at each other in shock and then back at the RT.
Mom: You can try, but I don't think it will do much good.
RT: *shrugs his shoulders* Well, I have to ask.
RT leaves.
Cindy and Mom look at each other, still stunned.
Mom: Well, I don't want him as *my* respiratory therapist if I ever need one!
Cindy: I do! He never gives up!!

We're all convinced that was Dad's way of making the mood in the room lighter. He always did love a good laugh and they sure had one after that!