Over Christmas my mom got Covid.  It was a terrible flu with constant chills, fevers, soreness and loss of taste which led to loss of appetite.  Even though it hit her hard, it never really made her oxygen level drop, which we were all thankful for.  Just as she was starting to feel a little better, Dad got sick.  Unlike mom, he didn't seem to get many of the symptoms that mom had gotten.  Instead, he just became extremely fatigued and didn't have any will to get up and move around.  Mom made him do it anyway, which later, when I talked to Ron, seemed to be one of the best things she could have done.    

Mom was watching his oxygen levels faithfully, and in the beginning it seemed like he was going to be alright.  Still, I was starting to plan to drive up to Utah with the kids to help both of them.  I could have flown, but I was homeschooling the little boys and Alaina, and I didn't know how long I would want to be there for.   I drove to the store and purchased a cartload of snacks and easy meals and went back home to pack them up.  I wasn't sure when I'd leave, exactly, but I wanted to be ready to.

Dad's oxygen levels started dropping and Mom ended up taking him into the emergency.  Dad was really reluctant to go but he eventually was convinced.  At first it was very positive news that we got.  They had to give Dad oxygen but just a low level.  While he was there, my brothers called him on FaceTime and sang him a song.  The nurse said that his oxygen levels all shot up during that song.  The doctor said that he was doing really well and that he would be going home the next day.

I called him on the phone, and he was frustrated because he didn't have his hearing aids.  So, unfortunately, the conversation was really one sided.  He knew it was me, and he told me that he loved me and that he knew that I loved him.  He also said that he didn't think he was going to make it through Covid.  I told him I didn't want him to go, and he told me it wasn't my choice.  It was a goodbye call, and I knew in my heart it would really be the last time I'd get to really talk to him.  When he hung up, I went down to Robert and cried.  The next morning, I had threw the little boys and Alaina in the car and we were driving to Utah.  

Alaina has her permit and she was able to help me drive here and there, but she's still pretty new, and so I did most of the driving.  We only stopped for gas, and that first night I drove until about 4 o'clock.  Unable to continue, we stopped into a hotel for a few hours and by 7 we were back on the road.  I had brought enough food and drinks that the only other stops we made were for gas.  

Half way through the first day of our drive we were told that Dad was sent home with some oxygen and that he was going to be fine.  I was hopeful that my panic was an over-reaction, although I was still anxious to get there.  That night Dad didn't do well at all, and by the next afternoon, he was back in the hospital.  This time, it was for hospice.  

By the time I got that call, we were still six hours away.  Spencer jumped into the car and started driving from San Diego.  Gina had just arrived by plane.  Lora was on FaceTime because she was unable return from China.  I felt desperate to get there, and dismayed that even though we had tried our best, we might not make in there in time to say goodby.

Somehow Dad held on.  Alaina and I drove straight to the hospital and when I got there, Josh drove the kids up to the house.  I sat by Dad for a few minutes, and he was able to give me a small smile.  When Mom told him that I drove there, he said, "Oh, so far!"  I was able to tell him that I loved him, and he was taken off the oxygen. 

We don't know how we were all let into that small room with Dad.  I think part of it was that we all came at different times, and the nurses may have thought we were there for different people.  But once I joined my brothers and sister in the room, they said we couldn't leave the room or we wouldn't be let back in.  We weren't even to go to the bathroom.  The did have a small toilet in the room (no curtain or divider, just a toilet, and they said we weren't allowed to use that either.  (A few of my family broke that rule, but as rules go, it was a pretty dumb one.)  We sang song after song, and eventually, when it was clear that none of us were going to leave, they started bringing us a few extra chairs.  There still weren't enough for everyone...it was a very small room.  But we made do.  

Dad held on, and after midnight, Spencer arrived and was able to see him and say goodbye.  After that, we just waited and talked.  Some of us slept here and there.  Because it was daytime for Lora, she started reading poetry, which we all listen to.  She must have done it for hours.  Lora was on the phone for over 16 hours, and it felt like she was there with us the whole time.  When one phone ran out of batteries, we would call with another one.  I'm sure that my Dad was happy to pass on from this life surrounded by Mom and all of his children.  

Early the next morning, he took his last breath.  Suddenly, we knew he was gone from us.  It was strange having such an urgent determination from all of us to remain in that small room, but a few minutes after his last breath, it was easy to walk out.  We just knew that he wasn't there anymore.

I will always feel blessed to have been able to make it to Utah and go into that hospital room to say goodbye to my sweet Father.  I know that so many people weren't allowed to do this during Covid and it hurts my heart to thing of what they missed.  It was a touch, a smile and a goodbye.  

Here are some of the pictures from that time.