On Wednesday February 5th, 2014 at 2:22 p.m. Thomas A. Young, surrounded by his women, breathed his last.
As as abruptly as we got on, we found ourselves dumped off the tilt-o-whirl of death, standing a bit disoriented by the exit. This journey has been laced with irony. On Monday, Dad didn’t qualify for one of hospice centers we were considering because he didn’t meet the qualification of “imminent death” (two to three days). Yet less than 48 hours after moving from the facility, my beloved father passed from imminent death to immanent life.
A tilt-o-whirl seems an apt metaphor for the ride we’ve been on. Just as we’d get our bearings, whoosh, we were swooped off in another direction. Dehydration to acute renal failure to this and that and thinking the problem had been figured out only to find it wasn’t. Moving from looking for a rehab facility to long-term acute care t0 hospice.
And yet as I lay in bed last night reflecting on the ride, I was reminded
- Not all have the blessing of riding the tilt-o-whirl of death with others
- Many ride much longer than we did
- Some get separated on the ride
- Others ride it in the dark
- At times people are known to ride with their eyes closed and in denial of what’s happening
Mercy after mercy went before, beside, behind and above.
It was clear his spirit was leaving, his breathing slowing, his temperature lowering, and the time drawing near. At 2:15 p.m. we gathered around him for one final verbal shower of words of love and near the end he closed his mouth and simultaneously ended and started life. Your prayers for a quick death were heard. And God smiled when Dad died on a palindrome time of 2:22 p.m.
His memorial service will be Monday, February 10th (10:00 a.m.) at Bear Valley Church (10001 W. Jewell Ave, Lakewood, CO, 80232). All are welcome. An online obituary is in the works and as soon as it is ready can be read at Horan and McConaty — but you’ll need to search for Tom Young.
Thank you for your prayers and our pouring of love at this time. This picture was taken in September and the only items missing are the two pens that always resided in Dad’s front pocket (he even lamented not having his pens in the hospital).
Dad, to say you will be missed is a colossal understatement. I love you. Amy