My Dad, George D. Jones

12-15-1917 to 09-19-2006

by Nita Holstine

Time was indeed short and I was so very glad that Hospice was present. The girl's name is Teresa and she sat holding Dad's hand as he opened his eyes and closed them for the very last time. She'd been talking to him, trying to keep him awake. She didn't realize that he had not recognized anything or anyone around him in a long time. But she got some smiles from him and he squeezed her hand. 

Teresa called me moments later and we both cried together. So began the tears and heavy heart. After Dad's open heart surgery years back, we weren't at all sure he would survive then. God was good to allow him to stay with us for so long.

Randy and I were planning a trip to see Dad that evening and I was making a print out of the Lord's Prayer. I had just read it aloud and added the one from childhood: Now I lay me down to sleep, I pray the Lord my soul to keep. If I should die before I wake, I pray the Lord my soul to take. Amen. I went to open Click Art and look for praying hands when the phone rang. It was Teresa in tears, I joined her.

I had the obituary note ask that any gifts of flowers instead be given as donations made to Hospice. The arrangements have all been made and there is nothing left to do except be sad at the knowing that Dad is no longer in our days. 

A nurse called from the nursing home early this afternoon. She was rude and short. Just stating that she was mending a tear in dad's skin. She is not happy with his being out of the hospital. That's okay. His caseworker had called earlier this week and suggested that he go on Hospice Care and not go back to the hospital. They were just making his condition worse and worse. Barbara the caseworker said that the end was near and he just needed to be as comfortable as possible. I cried all that day but feel better knowing that he is not in pain or stress. He doesn't know where he is or what is going on around him. Poor old dad. In some ways, he is afraid to die. Mom died so suddenly and unexpectedly. Zella just gave up wanting to live. But I encouraged him to be buried with my mother in their plot. That's a good thing. I jump every time the phone rings and hold my breath until I know who it is and what they want but it just means that for now he is still doing okay.

I had called Friday and talked to nurse Shirley. She wouldn't tell me anything, said she'd tell me more when I was there in person on Saturday. The only person I got to visit with was a very friendly CNA. She wanted me to move so she could get to the bag. Never mind. 

I talked to dad when I went in and he seemed to wake and tried to say hello. But he faded away and slept on. He is so thin and so very cold to touch. There was a card tacked to the board in his room. He can't do anything so they leave the TV doing. But he can't move well enough to operate the control beside him. 

Think I will call tomorrow and ask the nursing home caseworker if she can call and get a prognosis. You know, if they think dad will be strong enough to go back to the nursing home again. Is he getting stronger? Will he get better. 

I just got through to the nurse's station on dad's unit at the hospital. I had tried all of yesterday evening and got no where. The nursing home didn't bother to let me know that as soon as he returned to the home from the hospital trauma unit, they sent him back and he'd been admitted. 

When I called this morning, I went through 3 ladies and was then told that he was stable. The last one said that she could ring his room and I told her that I had called several times and that he was not able to get up much less answer the phone. Hadn't been in a good while. He can hardly talk and is not really aware of anything going on around him. He is comfortable for now. The chest pains and shortness of breath were from the pneumonia and are being treated. Stable. His condition is stable.

06-17-04

My dad has always been called Bob Jones and is known by that name. It's not quite his official name but close enough.

He is all of 88 now and in good health although he needs the 24 hour care of the living center where he now resides. After my mother died when I was 19, he remarried twice and now both of those ladies have died.

Back when I was 5, mom and dad took in 3 children for foster care until mom found out that she was pregnant with my little brother. The kids were two girls and a little boy. The girls were just a little older than me but enough so that they would pull or push me around in my little wagon which to me was wonderful. I liked being an only child but these girls were great! The little boy was completely blind and had been left to lay on his back all the time. The back of his head was completely bald from rubbing on the bed but I don't remember him being unhappy or crying.

I don't know that it was all his idea or if mom helped but dad made a seat for the baby to sit in. It was connected to the clothes line and he could run up and down the length of the line. He quickly learned not to just walk but to also run just as fast as he could. When he reached one pole, he would turn around and race the other direction. Since he did not know night from day, he would not want to stop at dark to come inside. As he ran and ran, he would laugh and giggle just loving the feel of the ground on his little feet. The bald spot disappeared and he even had a jumper inside the house in a doorway. They make gadgets now days to do the same but it was my dad that gave him a life outside his small blind world.

The kids went back to their parents and we never heard from them again. My little brother could never do any of the fun things the girls could do and I admit that I was a terribly mean big sister. I thought that they could just trade him back in for other kids. But I will always remember the wonderful life my dad gave a little boy who had nothing at all.