My husband's father passed away about four hours ago. You may be wondering why I'm blogging about it and not sitting by my husband's side.

....I wish I could be by his side right now.

My husband left on a business trip this morning. He's in another state and can't get home until tomorrow morning. It's a small state and the airport is closed for the night. He missed the last flight out by 15 minutes. So, my sweet husband is in a strange city, left to deal with the passing of his dad all by himself.

I'm heartbroken for him. I want to hold him and comfort him but I can't. I literally ache for him right now. His dad was so special to him.

His dad was a special man to everyone that knew him. I can't begin to count the number of times I've heard people say "he's my hero" about this man. But his biggest fan was his son; my husband.

This has been a strange journey for me, a Hospice volunteer. I've never experienced death up close and personal, except through my Hospice volunteer experiences. My very special Aunt died suddenly in her sleep which is a whole different experience. And it was also an experience that I deal with a lot better. It's more difficult for me to see people I love in pain than to experience it myself.

My husband's dad didn't die suddenly; at least not until the end. In respect for my husband's privacy I won't go into detail, but being a Hospice volunteer did not give me any advantages. It was almost a disadvantage for me because I saw things I didn't want to see. I knew things I didn't want to know. I knew things my husband's family didn't want to know. On one hand I wanted to tell my husband what I felt was happening because I didn't want him to be sideswiped. On the other hand, I'm not a doctor and I am not an expert on dying. After all, I could have been wrong about what I saw. So I kept quiet and had to watch it all play out.

I am not sure that it was a blessing in disguise, but my father-in-law didn't realize how sick he was until he received a questionnaire in the mail from his medical center asking if he felt his doctor was dealing with his fatal illness properly (I'm paraphrasing.) My father-in-law was surprised to hear his illness described in this manner. He never really thought of fact that he had a fatal illness. This happened in December. I was appalled that he had to find out in this way.

The next time he went to the doctor, he was told, "Well, I assumed you knew". Then gave him a prognosis of 2-3 years. My father-in-law told us all that he 'knew' the doctor was just being cautious and told us all that he felt he had another 10 years left.

I knew better, but I gave him the respect and dignity of having his own reality.

Although my husband saw his dad just about every day after that, I only visited on weekends. About three weeks ago, I saw signs of end-stage. This is where I don't like being a Hospice volunteer. I saw things that nobody around me saw. I wrote an email the next day suggesting that they ask their doctor about getting a visiting nurse or something, "just to help out". I was given an emphatic "NO!". I beat myself up for days about that. It wasn't up to me to try to change their reality. Two days later they went to the doctor and the prognosis was moved up to "weeks, maybe months". Then the doctor suggested Hospice. They gave him the same answer as they gave me.

Ironically, this day was the same day I finished my grief and bereavement training with Hospice. I have to wonder about the timing in all of this. This journey I chose for myself would start right here in my own home.

We visited two weekends ago and I knew that he'd not see the end of February. This is really hard information to keep to oneself. Yet again, my suspicions were confirmed the following Monday when they went back to the doctor. His prognosis was moved up to "days, maybe weeks". The doctor insisted on Hospice, and they finally agreed.

It's almost as if once he found out that he was dying, he let go. He lost his will.

We saw him again on Saturday and I knew he'd be gone within days.

Again, I was right. Today was the day.

So, all this time, unless asked, I never shared what I knew with my husband or his father (or step-mother), but I did share with my husband's mother. I shared all of it with her. There were days that we wrote email to each other at least twice a day. It's been so wonderful to have her there to listen to me and assure me that I was doing the right things for my husband. I needed to hear that from someone who knows and loves my husband and who also still loves his father that I was taking care of him in the best way possible.

For my own support, I had my sister to lean on. I know she's always there to support me. She's my best friend. I've had some stressful things going on at work on top of this and felt like I was drowning at times. I didn't want to burden my husband with any of it because he didn't need to carry any more of a load than he already had. I'm so glad that I have my sister at times like this.

I also had *my* Hospice services (the organization I volunteer for) to help me with advice during a few sticky situations. I felt as if I was way over my head at times because I had to witness all of this going on around me and not say anything. They helped me by practicing conversations with me, they gave me ways that I could say things and not offend or change people's realities.

So, now that I've cleaned the house from top to bottom and I've thrown all of this out onto my blog, I feel helpless. I'm not *doing*.

And my husband is alone.