That's not me... this isn't happening...

I'd ask that if you can while you read this post, you listen to Radiohead "How to disappear completely".

Scene:

Your father is in the hospital bed. He can't speak, or understand others. His eyes are not opened, yet he tries to sit up and get out of the bed. His brothers, and family watch, but do nothing. 

You turn to see this as you talk with the doctor... You immediately move past them all and put your hands on your fathers shoulders and pull/ move him back into the bed so that he won't fall and hurt himself more. All the while you are saying, "It's ok dad, lay down, you're ok, come on dad, let's just rest, let's lay back and rest. You're ok." Although these are the words you say, you know he isn't ok, and you know he'll die here... soon. 

Your spouse and child watch you do this... and in some periphery of your hearing you catch your child say to your spouse "Dad's strong isn't he?" 

Fast forward three years and some change... (still listening to the song I hope)

Driving back home from the howl at the moon event where you helped setup and prep for the local animal shelter.

This song comes on... and you're there again.

You can feel his warm, but boney shoulders... the cancer has taken so much from this man. Soon it will take the rest... In this moment you know what to do, and how to act. No tears... no feeling... just the "correct" actions as  you know them to be. 

You know what? They are the correct actions. He may have heard me, and even if he didn't it was right. Everyone else was waiting for "someone" to come help him and just watching... his brothers... there wives... his grand children... just watching. 

As I'm driving home I realized two things... things I felt worth sharing. 

First, the Army has my thanks. Why? They taught me what the mental model is to use when someone is dying, and in pain, and you need to calm them, and get them into a position where you can help them... or at least keep them from hurting others, or giving away a position. 

It's ok dad, you're ok, just lie down and rest, you're going to be ok...

Thank you.

The second thing is that they taught me that service is about the experience of others, not your own. 

These other people were in their own experiences at the moment. Unable to move from them, and to think of his... whatever that may be. 

I was there talking to the doctor about his care, and moving on to hospice when all this happened. I was doing what he had asked me to do when he was well. In that moment I was there for him, and his experience. Just as I was when I saw him struggling to leave the bed. It still hurts to think of this, but I'm eternally grateful that I was able to be there, and that I had a mental model. I hope that he recognized my voice, or my touch. Even if he didn't, I'm glad I was able to be there for him. 

So in the end I wasn't all that strong, but I had a good mental model, and I was aware that this was not about me or my experience of this life ending event. It was his. 

I hope I have someone there for me in the same way. 

If not, it will still be an adventure to be sure. One of the most special, and meaningful. I hope to die well.