The Pearl 2020

Coming Home
Hallie Eickhoff
My dad came home from the hospital on his 48 th birthday in an ambulance.
While most ambulance rides take someone sick to the hospital, this
ride took my sick father back home for home hospice. My dad was dropped
off with no instruction manual, only a supply of liquid morphine and a halfconscious
human to take care of. Home hospice had been the right decision,
we were convinced of it. Dad hated hospitals and would want to spend his
final days at home. He couldn’t confirm our beliefs, however, because he was
already non-verbal. His only interaction with the outside world was occasional
grumblings and, when lucky, the rare smile.
Dad moved home along with endless extended family. My grandparents
and two aunts made themselves at home while my uncles and cousins
stayed in a nearby hotel. During the day, everyone that could make it was
there. My brothers were around constantly, finding it hard to look directly at
their step-dad, instead they focused their attention on Mom and me. Asked
us if there’s anything we needed, and although people kept asking, we never
found an answer. Our house became a revolving door of well-meaning
guests. From family members on my mom’s side bringing comforting gifts, to
family friends I’d never met bringing piles of food. I sat with many strangers
while they told me stories of my dad’s childhood and all the trouble he had
gotten himself into.
We realized quickly we didn’t know what we were doing. We had expected
more help, but instead we needed to take the lead. The first night my
dad was home, Mom and I found ourselves sitting on either side of his recliner
feeding him ice chips in the quiet of the night. Mom took to caring
naturally, but she handed me the ice chips and encouraged me to give it a try.
I scooped a couple ice chips into my spoon hesitantly and held them
to Dad’s lips, he ate them slowly, a delicate smile spread across his face. His
joy spread to both of us and I quickly scooped up more, so I could stretch
this moment out. He slowly crunched on the ice and after he had swallowed
the last bit, right on cue, he smiled.
Mom looked from my father’s smiling face, to me watching him intently,
“It’s much better to be out here, don’t you think?”
“This is much better.” I fed my dad a few more ice chips, he crunched.
“It’s not like we would be sleeping anyways.”
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