Jacqueline, I'm so sorry that you had to say goodbye, and so grateful that you had the opportunity to let him go. I've said goodbye to one parent at 62 and another at 95, and although it was too soon for me, I know they were ready. I know your loving visit gave your father what he needed to be ready.

Wishes for peace and comfort for you, Matilda, David, and all those who mourn his passing.

So sorry JZ.

My condolences, JZ and family. At least someone was able to be there.

I'm sorry, JZ. And David and Matilda.

And now Matilda is sobbing and raging that we didn't share every detail with her all along, and I can hear her crying in her room but she doesn't want either of us anywhere near her. I'm gutted all over again.

I suspect there is no course of action you could have taken that would not leave her sobbing and raging at this time and that she's scrambling frantically for some shred of some sense control in this tsunami of chaos. Her heart is at the gates of hell and there is nothing anyone can do to change that.

It will take a while to get past "If I had only KNOWN I could have done SOMETHING" because she's a bright and effective girl who almost always CAN do something. She can't be with him she couldn't be with you, and she's so so isolated right now... isolating herself just a little bit more is the only change she can affect.

The good news is that she is safe and loved enough (and knows that she's safe and loved enough) to lose her shit utterly. She knows that when she comes back you'll be there. So many people never have that. It's what you are giving her right now and it's invaluable.

I'm so sorry, JZ. It is a blessing, amidst the sadness, that you could be there with your dad for those last moments and make sure his final awareness was of the love of his family. I think that has to be a huge comfort to the person passing, and I know firsthand it's a huge comfort to those left behind.

He's still here--still dwindling and not conscious and not in any discomfort, but not yet stepping through that door in the redwoods. Which is a whole different kind of pain for the rest of us. I don't even know what to feel anymore, and there is literally nothing we can do, just wait.

I am so sorry, JZ and family. That sounds very painful, but I am glad you were able to see him and hold his hand and make eye contact.

Waiting is torture. I'm so sorry. My wacky notion on that part of it is he doesn't think one of his loved ones is ready yet. {{all of you}}

he doesn't think one of his loved ones is ready yet

My youngest brother is very much not. Of course, he's also the one who absolutely CANNOT be here under any circumstances because of the multiple myeloma (nor would our dad want him to be; if he were still speaking, he'd be absolutely saying Stay the fuck home, and probably adding fucks for emphasis [which he does not habitually do around any of us kids, but if he were conscious and speaking he would make an exception for this]).