Sounds, part 3

The nurse explained to me that mucous builds up in the lungs. And when that build up happens, people can sound like a coffee percolator when they are in the process of dying. In the past, they used to clear out the mucous, but the lungs would just produce more. Now, they give a medicine to make the music dry up on its own.

When I arrived at the facility, in the afternoon, Dad was alone in bed. I sat next to him. His eyes opened up for me. He looked at me, we made eye contact. His eyes, appeared to have little-to-no life left in them. Time appeared to stand still as we fixed our gaze on each other. Then I noticed his left eye begin to veer off course, my Dad attempted to point at his eye as it veered. The eye veers because the muscles are not holding it in place.

His eyes closed, and the percolator, known as “Death Rattles”, started. Accompanied with that noise was that B-below-middle-C moan.

I stayed with Dad that night. My shift started at 10/10:30pm. I fell asleep at 5:30am for an hour or so. Between 10/10:30pm and 5:30am I stayed awake speaking to my Dad about our time together. I imagined we were camping again in the backyard. I talked about our times together — driving from Milwaukee to Miami and staying in motels that looked like drug dens. I recalled how he always reminded me that “God and me make a majority” and to never let a day go by where I don’t tell the people in my life that touch me that I love them. I spoke about how I felt he was the only one who truly got me, who knew how my soul worked.

I recalled a letter he wrote to me in eight grade. A few quotes are below:

“God’s love will help you love others more. Only if you love others — your brother, your sister and your friends — will your life be fulfilled. This you have done well. From the help yo give your brother to daily phone calls to your Grandmother you have shared God’s love. Always remember how important this is. Never let a day go by without telling your Mother and those other people who touch your lives how much you love them….

Always follow your heart. You know what is right. Always remember that, no matter what anyone says, God and you do make a majority . If you follow your heart you will never be ashamed of anything you may do in life.

Your Mother and I wish that ou could forever be that little boy whose picture I have enclosed. We wish that every day would be your first at school. We wish that every night fro the rest of our lives we could kiss you goodnight and tell you how much we really love you. These wishes can never come true. You mhave matured and you will continue to grow. However, there is one wish that can come true. That wish is that every day we tell each other how much we love them — how much they turn the sunos in our lives — and carry out our words in action.”

I played him a voicemail he left on my phone in November of 2011:

“10:35, I’m going to bed, I just thought I wanted to tell you before I go to sleep how much I love you, and how much I’m proud of you… goodnight.”

I cried. My eyes winced. My chest muscles jerked.

I put my head next to his and expressed how happy I was that I could have just one more night with him to tell him how much I loved him. To tell him that I will do what I can to be a person that serves others. To not allow petty things to get in the way of love. That I am so thankful that I had just this experience, as stressful as it was, to tell him how much he meant to me… and how proud I am that he is my Dad. And most importantly, how proud I am that he finished what he started.

When I woke up at 7:30am, his moaning became louder and the rattles kept going.

I picked up my mother who wanted to say a few words to Dad. I brought her to Angels grace, I was gone not more than 45 minutes to an hour. When we walked in the noises stopped. My sister said to get the nurse. We cleared the room so that my mom could talk.

The nurse walked in. With her stethoscope she listened.

2 minutes of silence passed.

“It’s been two minutes and I have not detected a heart beat or noises from the lungs. Your father has passed. I am so sorry.”

Dedicated to my Dad (1946 - 10/9/2025), who I love so very much.

Sounds, part 2