In Loving Memory

It has been six months since my dad Santos De Los Santos passed. The Lord made it possible that dad was here at home and left peacefully in his home surrounded by his family. I had the blessing to be at his side the moment he passed and left this earth. Thankfully, I was not alone and had my sister with me as we witnessed this moment together.

Allow me to provide some insight into how we got to this place. I was always daddy’s little girl, and we were always close because we bonded over cracking jokes and laughing, and we enjoyed watching baseball, movies, and old detective shows like Columbo and Jesse Stone with Tom Selleck. He was the strong silent type who did not really say much unless you got him talking about things he was interested in like anything to do with history, World War I & II, westerns, and the Bible. Aside from that, he would not really share his feelings or thoughts and it would just remain a mystery until he reached his breaking point, and he would let it out.

I moved to Colorado in my mid-twenties and would come home to visit once or twice a year. I lived in Colorado for twenty years then made the decision to move back to Texas in 2018 to take care of mom and dad. Mom’s health had been a rollercoaster, to say the least so up until this point dad was able to do it on his own, but he was getting older and needing more assistance with mom due to her health becoming increasingly challenging. So here I come not fully aware of what was in store for us as I move back to live with mom and dad. It was a learning experience to get to know my mom and dad all over again and the dynamics of their relationship on a daily basis. It was a fine line between learning how to still give them their space as well as establishing my own. It was a process in attempting to organize the house and try not to step on any toes at the same time. That was especially challenging when it came to the storage shed in the backyard and convincing them to downsize.

Dad was my constant in so many ways and very predictable. When I was dealing with mom’s medical issues, I could count on dad being good and going with the flow. He was low maintenance and that made my life easier since I needed to focus on mom. I was here 24/7 and became more involved as their advocate when it came to their healthcare and speaking with their Physicians, helping them with their bills, things associated with the house, and basically every aspect of their lives. Dad had his own health issues, and I did my best to keep on him when it came to him taking his medications, and drinking his water, which was a constant battle, his diet, and everything else his doctor would order.

Over the last couple of years, I began to see him starting to slow down even more, he was starting to shrink before my eyes, and he was becoming more fatigued. Every time I brought it to the attention of his doctor, it was shrugged off as aging because the blood work they would order would always come out normal. Then suddenly, he started having anxiety attacks and becoming agitated which is not in my dad’s nature. After much persistence and after a series of events, his doctor finally listened to me and ordered a series of evaluations of my dad. Ultimately, he was placed under Hospice care. I was grateful for this because I told his doctor prior to this that I felt a sense of urgency with dad, yet I didn’t know why I felt this way. I just knew he needed to be in Hospice ASAP. From the day he was admitted into Hospice here at home to the day he passed was 15 days. The last month of his life was something for which I was not prepared. I had been caring for my mom and helping her with the basic everyday tasks that you and I take for granted. That was like second nature to me but to do that for my dad was a different story. That was something I had not imagined I would have to do. It was those moments that I had to set aside that I was his daughter, I put on my nurse hat.

I will never forget this one incident at night when he passed out in the bathroom, and he had ended up lodged in between the toilet and bathtub. I called 911 and they arrived for lift assistance. After the paramedics left, I realized that he needed to be cleaned and changed but it was going to require me to get him in the shower. Now, I had not assisted him in the shower before this point, so this was unfamiliar territory for both of us. He was also at the point where he was not talking as much, but his face said everything. He had this deer in headlights expression and all I could say was I am sorry dad, but I need to do this. He put his arms around his head as if to block what was about to take place. It hurt me so much to put him through that, but I had no choice. I just remember praying that I could get him on the bench in the tub safely without him falling. It was one of the toughest moments I faced with him.

It was determined at this point that my dad had been suffering from internal bleeding coming from a leak in his replaced heart valve that had succeeded in its life expectancy. As a result, he was very weak, had a loss of appetite, constantly sleeping, and was unable to care for himself. I do not know how I was physically able to move and lift him to and from his bed to his wheelchair, but the Lord gave me the physical strength I needed. It was also the Lord who gave me the mental strength to deal with what was unfolding before my eyes with my dad bleeding out and I could not do anything about it.

One amazing thing is that my dad never once complained about being in pain. When he was still talking, I would ask him what he was thinking or what he thought was happening. He would only tell me he was not in pain and that his body was just cleansing itself. I did not want to press him further, so I just accepted what he said. As I mentioned before, he was always the strong silent type, and all the way to the end, he remained quiet. I made it a point every time I would clean and change him, I would joke with him and try to redirect him not only for him but for me too. It would happen more times than not in the middle of the night, and he would ring his bell to summon me. I would tell him he would do it on purpose. Let me tell you that he was always cold, so he had about six blankets on his bed, long johns, socks, flannel, a beanie, and gloves on all the time. Some nights I would have the heater on for him too in his room. So, when I would go in there and tend to him, I would be sweating bullets by the time I was done and felt like I had just finished a workout. The night before he passed, I was tending to him and had to put on clean long johns. He could not help me, so I was struggling to put them on and finally, I get them on and realize that I had put them on backward. Even though he was not talking he could still understand what was going on and hear me. I told him I was not going to fix his long johns and that when he gets up, he would have to walk backward! He did crack a smile after that. I remember telling him often that I was going to care for him up until the Lord says he is ready for him. Until then, he is still stuck with me.

Before he went, I apologized to him and asked him for forgiveness for being so rough on him. Because I relied on him for being so constant in always being here to help me with mom and being my right-hand man. When he was beginning to decline and he was changing physically and mentally, I began to resent him because I needed him to be strong and capable. He was not living up to my expectations and I was beginning to resent him for that. That was not fair because he had done his part and held up what his wedding vows stated to death do us part. He was there for mom through it all. He was strong and capable when he needed to be. It was now his turn to rest from all he did.

On November 26, 2022, it was around 9:15pm when the medical examiner officially pronounced him. It was between 7:30-7:45pm when he passed in the presence of myself and my sister. I told him our time together was not finished until I walked him and the medical examiner placed him in his vehicle. I did not grieve for my dad after his passing. I had to take my own health into consideration because of the stress of everything that occurred, I had to inject myself a couple of times with my emergency steroid to avoid having an adrenal crisis. I did not want to end up in the hospital on top of everything that just took place. I had to focus on mom because I was not sure how she was going to be after losing the love of her life of sixty-seven-plus years. Over the last six months, it’s been all about mom. When I go into my dad’s shed in the backyard, that is where I feel close to him, and more times than not, I’m usually yelling at him and asking him why he had so much crap, sorry but not sorry for giving away most of his things to Salvation Army and Goodwill, and asking him where are the brand new box cutters and garden gloves are that I bought him that he never used. You get the point; it is where I can have a conversation with him and hope he is still listening to me.

Thank you, dad, for the time we had together, and it was an honor to be the one to care for you until our journey was complete. I hope you were proud of me. I love you daddy.