We rushed to Dad's bedside and I stayed there holding his hand through the night. Every time I had to go to void, I would used Dad's attached bathroom and ask the Hospice nurse if she could hold onto Dad's hand for me while I used the bathroom. I didn't want my dad's hand to be cold when I withdrew mine to use the lavatory.
When I got finished, I would hold Dad's hand again. At one point, the Hospice nurse went down the hall. When she returned, she asked me if I needed to have her hold Dad's hand, so I could use the bathroom. I told her no, because Dad was holding my hand, at that point. It wasn't that Dad's hand was just laying on my hand and he wasn't squeezing my hand in pain. Dad was holding my hand in a comforting manner which I truly cherish every time I think of it.
When the nurse came in to check on Dad at 6:00, I asked if she would get me a guest tray for breakfast. I thought the gnawing feeling in the pit of my stomach was hunger, but it really was from the stress of everything, but I was so very, very happy to be there with Dad through all of this.
Because these posts are examples of how I've applied these Bible verses to my life, they don't necessarily reflect the whole meaning of the Bible verse. Debbie
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