Hardest Duty You've Had To Perform?

[DAN0383]

Hmmm...
Talk to and offer condolences to the families of 6 of my brother's best friends who died in a car crash outside Cochrane in August 2001. I knew most of them pretty well also, had some classes with a couple aswell.
Hold our cat's paw that we had for 14-15 years as the vet injected him putting him down.
Seeing my grandfather in the ICU on his deathbed, holding his hand and talking to him knowing he wasn't going to wake up.
The wierd thing is that I am the "mentally weak" one in the family but seem to be the one that can hold it together in those type of tough situations... I only really break down later when I'm away from everyone.
We all go through these things, and hey, sunnier days are ALWAYS ahead.

[Flames_Gimp]

having to sit there and watch my best friend get moved onto a stretcher and zipped up in the body bag by his parents and sister. october 29th, 06.

[bigtmac19]

Originally Posted by pope04

I've accompanied several pets on their final journeys to the vet, I've been pallbearer for both at both of my beloved maternal grandparents' funerals and, like Dominic, I've "assisted" my wife while she gave birth to my three wonderful sons. All tough, but the hardest thing I've ever done was ask a question.

My dad was a rough-and-tumble sort, an alcoholic City of Calgary policeman. I've heard from his buddies on the Force that he was one hell of a cop, but he left something to be desired as a father and husband to my mother. My folks split up when I was in junior high, and, to make a long story short, he became estranged from his entire family as of, oh, 1989 or '90. All of us, my Mum, my brother and sister, my grandmother, cousins, missed him, cared for him and loved him, but he elected to go the hermit route. We knew he was somewhere in the Okanagan, but he didn't even have a phone so we couldn't connect with him in any way, shape or form. One day, actually October 23rd, 2002, one of his drinking buddies in Okanagan Falls, gave me a call to say my father was in the hospital in Penticton. I called the hospital and they told me that he had been transferred to the adjoining hospice. Hospice? That sounded pretty serious.

I called the hospice and the nurse I spoke to couldn't contain her disgust for me. For all she knew I was a dick of a son that neglected his cancer-ridden, terminal father. I explained some of the family dynamics to her and she calmed down. So here comes the toughest thing I ever had to do: I asked the nurse if she'd ask my father if it was okay if I came to see him before........you know. She told me to call back in 10 minutes while she asked him.

Well, let's just say those ten minutes didn't go very well. I haven't cried often as an adult, but for that short while I was a mess. Tears and snot flowed freely, and I was a dick to my wife. She told me she understood what I was feeling, and I blew up at her, blustering that she couldn't possibly understand because I didn't understand myself.

I called the hospice back, and the nurse herself was practically in tears. She told me it was okay to come so, the next day, my mother, two siblings and I flew to Kelowna and then rented a car to Penticton. I remember standing outside of Dad's room at the hospice, just a bundle of nerves, not knowing what the hell to say when I got in there. Finally, I just walked in and, when I got to his bed, he turned to me and I blurted, "Dad, we left this too long."

He agreed, and the rest of the visit went as well as could be expected. He gave me the ring he earned when he retired from the Force, then he challenged me to an arm wrestle. We all said our goodbyes, and I told him that I loved him for the first time in my life.

He died just a few days later.

Wow, that made me cry. I'm really glad you got to say goodbye.

[simmer2]

Originally Posted by pope04

I've accompanied several pets on their final journeys to the vet, I've been pallbearer for both at both of my beloved maternal grandparents' funerals and, like Dominic, I've "assisted" my wife while she gave birth to my three wonderful sons. All tough, but the hardest thing I've ever done was ask a question.

My dad was a rough-and-tumble sort, an alcoholic City of Calgary policeman. I've heard from his buddies on the Force that he was one hell of a cop, but he left something to be desired as a father and husband to my mother. My folks split up when I was in junior high, and, to make a long story short, he became estranged from his entire family as of, oh, 1989 or '90. All of us, my Mum, my brother and sister, my grandmother, cousins, missed him, cared for him and loved him, but he elected to go the hermit route. We knew he was somewhere in the Okanagan, but he didn't even have a phone so we couldn't connect with him in any way, shape or form. One day, actually October 23rd, 2002, one of his drinking buddies in Okanagan Falls, gave me a call to say my father was in the hospital in Penticton. I called the hospital and they told me that he had been transferred to the adjoining hospice. Hospice? That sounded pretty serious.

I called the hospice and the nurse I spoke to couldn't contain her disgust for me. For all she knew I was a dick of a son that neglected his cancer-ridden, terminal father. I explained some of the family dynamics to her and she calmed down. So here comes the toughest thing I ever had to do: I asked the nurse if she'd ask my father if it was okay if I came to see him before........you know. She told me to call back in 10 minutes while she asked him.

Well, let's just say those ten minutes didn't go very well. I haven't cried often as an adult, but for that short while I was a mess. Tears and snot flowed freely, and I was a dick to my wife. She told me she understood what I was feeling, and I blew up at her, blustering that she couldn't possibly understand because I didn't understand myself.

I called the hospice back, and the nurse herself was practically in tears. She told me it was okay to come so, the next day, my mother, two siblings and I flew to Kelowna and then rented a car to Penticton. I remember standing outside of Dad's room at the hospice, just a bundle of nerves, not knowing what the hell to say when I got in there. Finally, I just walked in and, when I got to his bed, he turned to me and I blurted, "Dad, we left this too long."

He agreed, and the rest of the visit went as well as could be expected. He gave me the ring he earned when he retired from the Force, then he challenged me to an arm wrestle. We all said our goodbyes, and I told him that I loved him for the first time in my life.

He died just a few days later.

That sounds like something from a movie....wow. Quite moving.

[Ford Prefect]

Good on ya pope04. That would have been a very hard question to ask and a difficult position to be in, but I think you will be grateful for the rest of your life that you took the risk and reached out to him.

[mykalberta]

Having to assist my dad and uncle escort my Aunt with sever dementia out of her house to send her to a home.

She was screeming bluddy murder the whole time.

MYK

[MolsonInBothHands]

Originally Posted by pope04

I've accompanied several pets on their final journeys to the vet, I've been pallbearer for both at both of my beloved maternal grandparents' funerals and, like Dominic, I've "assisted" my wife while she gave birth to my three wonderful sons. All tough, but the hardest thing I've ever done was ask a question.

My dad was a rough-and-tumble sort, an alcoholic City of Calgary policeman. I've heard from his buddies on the Force that he was one hell of a cop, but he left something to be desired as a father and husband to my mother. My folks split up when I was in junior high, and, to make a long story short, he became estranged from his entire family as of, oh, 1989 or '90. All of us, my Mum, my brother and sister, my grandmother, cousins, missed him, cared for him and loved him, but he elected to go the hermit route. We knew he was somewhere in the Okanagan, but he didn't even have a phone so we couldn't connect with him in any way, shape or form. One day, actually October 23rd, 2002, one of his drinking buddies in Okanagan Falls, gave me a call to say my father was in the hospital in Penticton. I called the hospital and they told me that he had been transferred to the adjoining hospice. Hospice? That sounded pretty serious.

I called the hospice and the nurse I spoke to couldn't contain her disgust for me. For all she knew I was a dick of a son that neglected his cancer-ridden, terminal father. I explained some of the family dynamics to her and she calmed down. So here comes the toughest thing I ever had to do: I asked the nurse if she'd ask my father if it was okay if I came to see him before........you know. She told me to call back in 10 minutes while she asked him.

Well, let's just say those ten minutes didn't go very well. I haven't cried often as an adult, but for that short while I was a mess. Tears and snot flowed freely, and I was a dick to my wife. She told me she understood what I was feeling, and I blew up at her, blustering that she couldn't possibly understand because I didn't understand myself.

I called the hospice back, and the nurse herself was practically in tears. She told me it was okay to come so, the next day, my mother, two siblings and I flew to Kelowna and then rented a car to Penticton. I remember standing outside of Dad's room at the hospice, just a bundle of nerves, not knowing what the hell to say when I got in there. Finally, I just walked in and, when I got to his bed, he turned to me and I blurted, "Dad, we left this too long."

He agreed, and the rest of the visit went as well as could be expected. He gave me the ring he earned when he retired from the Force, then he challenged me to an arm wrestle. We all said our goodbyes, and I told him that I loved him for the first time in my life.

He died just a few days later.

A very touching post that pulled on these gruff, insensitive heart strings, and one that strikes home with me as well. The hermit tendencies run rampant in my family as well, and some of us have gone months, years even before getting in touch again. I am glad that you at least had the opportunity to say what mattered in the end.