By this point, they had reduced visitation to me. I would be called and given a time; I could come for around three hours.
In talking with the care givers, I heard that mom had told them she didn't want to visit and see him like that. I asked them if I could talk with her. I had a conversation and talked to her about the situation. I couldn't make her go, but I wanted to make sure I had asked her to visit.
On Friday, I got the call mid afternoon. I was to come at five.
The good news when I got there was that mom had listened and had visited him three times in the last 36 hours. She hadn't stayed long. We found a cookie piece on the floor of his room, we were all pretty sure it was hers.
By this point Dad was not fully conscious. He would occasionally open his eyes and at least once I felt he answered a question I asked.
The three hours in my memory were brief. I relayed the message my brother had sent as well as from my own family. I played his YouTube videos one more time. I brought some short things to read that said what I felt. I hoped they might comfort him if he was still listening. I held his hand during most of this time.
There was a shift change and the folks I mostly saw were replaced with folks I didn't know. They told me they would check in on him as often as possible that night.
I had in my mind a time to leave, as that time approached his breathing became further apart. And finally it came to an end. When I was sure he was gone, I went to find the care staff. I had a surreal moment when the staff person had never had a patient pass away before my dad. Fortunately there was a more experienced person there as well. They stopped the oxygen machine. We discussed what would happen next. They had the information on who to call.
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