Sep 11, 2017
How to have the Best Last 3 Days of Life
“Five Hundred Twenty-Five Thousand Six Hundred Minutes
Five Hundred Twenty-Five Thousand
Moments so dear
Five Hundred Twenty-Five Thousand Six Hundred Minutes
How Do You Measure — Measure A Year?
In Daylights — In Sunsets
In Midnights — In Cups Of Coffee
In Inches — In Miles
In Laughter — In Strife
In — Five Hundred Twenty-Five Thousand Six Hundred Minutes
How Do You Measure
A Year In The Life?
How About Love?
How About Love?
How About Love?
Measure In Love”
(Seasons of Love — RENT the Musical)
This was the song that played in the Uber as I rushed from Santa Monica to LAX. In less than 6 hours, I had to decide if I was going to get on a flight from LAX to SFO to SIN to Perth, Australia.
Why the rush?
To hold an older gentleman’s hand. A man who was there at my christening. To say hello again before I have to say goodbye.
My godfather was in the hospital because of his advanced cancer and now he had had his heart stopped twice.
I started at 4.30pm Thursday in LAX and flew that same day to SFO. My next flight to Singapore was delayed and I had to get onto another full flight which I almost missed. They were boarding when I went to the United Airlines to beg for a way to get onboard an already boarding full plane. If I wasn’t in that plane I would have to wait a full 24 hours for the next flight to Asia. 24 hours I simply didn’t have. By the grace of God or United Airlines I got on board. Nearly 16 hours later I arrived at 5.45am Saturday in Singapore. As soon as I could, I looked at my cell to check if there was any news. Did my godfather wait for me or had he already left? I had spent many moments on the flight wondering. My brother’s last message only read that my cousin, Girly would be on flight SQ223 on Saturday to Perth, Australia.
Immediately, I bought a SGD $1260 on a direct flight from Singapore to Perth. My cousin was going to be on SQ223 leaving at 9.30am, arriving 2.30pm Saturday. I managed to get one of the last seats on that plane. Then and only then; did I really breathe my first full deep breath in hours. I had done all I could do to get there.. to be with my godfather.
Why?
Why did I travel non-stop for more than 24 hours? Throw myself into Ubers and international flights and disrupt my daily routine and plans? Saw me changing clothes in the airport toilet and brushing my teeth in the public sink. Use up a thousand dollars of money I needed for pressing projects in my life. For a man whom I barely spoke to in recent years?
My mother had passed me a sacred torch, I carried high. I started doing things I personally would not have thought to do; yet felt somehow compelled to do. I would spend time to visit my aging uncles and aunts when they were in hospitals and senior care homes. Simple because that was what mom would have done. Growing up, I would follow her to visit my two grandmothers. She would listen to them and their stories and I would find a way to distract myself as any child would. It never came to mind what she was doing or how I assimilated these values. Yet since she passed in January 2017, I unconsciously took up her sacred torch. My parents sanctified family for me. Family was where unconditional love lived on earth. And for family, we would do anything if they were in need. We would sacrifice ourselves for our family members. So it was “my mom in me” — that propelled me. The sacred torch, now mine to light.
On arriving, my cousin Gerry picked me up at the airport saying, “You are the last person I expected to have stay in my house.” He said this in jest but with a strong element of truth. Less than a month before, their family had been in Singapore to visit with their dad. My godfather Uncle Pat was simply not well enough to stay and went back to Perth before the big party on his behalf in Singapore took place. At that party, my cousins asked me when they would see me in Perth and told me how my godfather would appreciate a visit since his spirits were down since my godmother passed in November 2017. I simply said, it was very unlikely as Perth was not where I did my work. So I had little or no reason to visit. It was not without irony that I was there, now.
We arrived at my cousin’s home but didn’t stay long. We rested a bit and headed to the ICU in Royal Perth hospital. Somehow I managed to still be awake, kept up by worry and adrenaline despite the lack of sleep. I walked in to the hospital to meet for the very first time my 2nd cousins. The children of my 4 male cousins or god brothers. They were in their early 30s and twenties but it was the first time we had met. I also met my youngest cousin who remembered me when I was a child but I had no recollection of. I come from a very big family and many of my cousins were 15–20 years older. They remembered the day of my baptism, which given I was a new born I simply couldn’t.
I walked into the hospital room and was relived to see a happy godfather. In pain but in good spirits. My cousin, Brandon and his partner were there and we joined them with my cousin Gerry and his partner and my second cousin. Basically a whole room of people who loved him. I teased my godfather and said, “You don’t have to be so dramatic, Uncle Pat. If you wanted to see me, you could have just said so.” and in typical Aussie style, I took the mickey out of him. He loved it. The twinkle came on in his eyes. He asked me when did I become so cheeky?
I had prepped myself for the meeting. Remembering that this was someone else’s family and to spend more time comforting and making their crisis manageable. I wanted to be able to bring smiles to their faces and relief to their hearts. I could do that best by listening and speaking with conscious intent or not at all. Most of the time, my cousins were discussing how to care for their dad and how to manage his needs post operations. They were not sure if they wanted to have the operation on his advanced cancer given his heart condition as well. They were to talk to the doctors on Wednesday to make a decision.
My godfather was looking well but he was disinterested in his food and could never really sit comfortably. He had to pass gas and mentioned how sorry he was about his inability to manage his body. I saw in all this, the same signs of a failing physical body and the anguish of that, I had seen in mom. It was hard to be dignified in sickness. All pride and independence lost as he/she had to rely on others. They had little or no control over their normal daily tasks like eating and pooing.
We sat and told stories. My presence allowed him to reminisce times with my parents. The angel of my mother and my father’s temper. My godmother was my namesake. Marion. So I was always tied to her even though she was miles and miles away. Before we left for the night, I managed to stand by his bedside and held his hand. A tenderness we had never shared before. He was always the dashing charming godfather who brought me chocolates. Now he was the gentle man in bed with a weak but still kind heart.
We didn’t leave him alone as my Singaporean cousin and her brother-in-law and wife came by then. The five of us, Ian the Sydney based son, Aaron his grandson, Gerry, the eldest, Irene, his partner, and I headed for Vietnamese food. Much needed as all of them had spent almost every day for the last 3 days there and my stomach was queasy after too little rest and too much bad airline food. I was so exhausted I almost fell face first into my pho.
We had left my godfather the night before, with promises to see him the next day. That promise was only kept by Ian.
Sunday morning, my cousins being good hosts were arguing as to where to bring me, the guest, for breakfast. It was in the midst of a joke on how Brandon was telling Gerry how bad a host he was being to be. Gerry had passed me the phone and I was talking to Brandon when in the background, I heard a commotion and Brandon started shouting, “His heart is stopping. Get to the hospital now.” and I repeated word by word to the horrified looks of Gerry and Irene in the house. We all rushed about but when the next call came, I refused to pick up the phone, gesturing Gerry to be the one. He was the one who needed to hear that his dad had passed.
Sunday morning would have meant mass for my godparents and sleep in and brunch for the cousins. It would have meant TAB for Gerry, Brandon and Uncle Pat. (TAB is betting on races but electronically not at the live races). It would have meant Nicole the eldest grandchild bringing the eldest great-grandchild to see the family. This particular Sunday, we gathered for a short prayer session led by the chaplain. We cried. We comforted each other in our crying. We recovered from our shock. We notified family and friends. We shared the messages that came in. We said our last goodbyes. And then even though we didn’t feel like eating… we went to eat as a family would on a Sunday.
Somehow, I think Uncle Pat and Aunty Dolly, were smiling at us from heaven. My godmother had left 10 months earlier and everyone said how much, he missed her. It must have pleased them to see their children, grandchildren and godchildren and those who loved them gathered together. If anyone saw us, they would have seen the similarities in our physical features and our habits and how we spoke, and the values we shared- all attributed by this loving couple.
How to have the Best Last 3 Days of Life?
You may have assumed I was referring to my godfather’s last days. I actually meant the last 3 days of my life. Somehow they end up being essentially the same.
- Know what is important to you and pursue it without hesitation. 100% commit. Don’t regret what you don’t do. Aaron mentioned how he wanted to be near his grandfather because the loss of his nan — was sudden.
- Fly anywhere, call anytime, check in regularly with someone you love. Today and everyday. It is never too long or too awkward.
- Be with family. Family of origin or family of choice. Just family. Eat with them, share stories, cry and laugh with them.
- Tell people how much they mean to you always and often. Hold someone’s hand and look into their eyes.
- I wish I had whispered I love you to my godfather… I really did think I would see him the very next day. I know however he was very touched by my flying all that distance to see him. I guess he knew too it was goodbye. When all I wanted to say was ‘hello’ again and again and again if I could all over again.
Number 5 would have made it the BESTEST LAST 3 Days of my Life. But I am human and I am learning. The next time, to love and laugh a little faster and deeper, each and every time.
How do you measure the A Year in the Life? I know the answer — In Love.
