FPA Retreat has been an automatic event for me for over 25
years and this year was no exception. I
arrived at the Torrey Pines Hilton on Sunday, where first up was a 7-mile hike with my
financial planner up the cliffs and down the beach to see porpoises and seals - and fill up my pockets with rocks and shells (real treasures you know).
The night before leaving for Retreat I had dinner with my
dad, who we recently moved into a memory care facility near me in Oklahoma City. He was all settled in and everything seemed
good to go...until Tuesday morning when I received a call from the
facility saying he needs to see a doctor.
I spoke with him and he agreed to have my niece come to take him in for
a check-up.
Kelsey, my niece, who my dad has been helping pay for her
college, got an opportunity to connect with him, “more than ever” according to
her, and learn about making doctors appointments and picking up
prescriptions. SHE WAS AWESOME. After feeding him a chicken fried steak from
Cracker Barrel, she left him with a full belly and what seemed to be on the
mend.
The next morning, I received another call from the
facility. After waking him to get ready
for breakfast all seemed fine. When they
went back to get him, he had fallen and hit his head on a table, and they were
calling 911 to take him to the ER.
Kelsey and her boyfriend Lake, during finals week, met the
ambulance at the hospital and stayed there the entire day acting as on-the-ground
eyes and ears for all the goings-on. She
got us the person at the hospital to whom we sent the legal powers of attorney
and Living Will. She and Lake sat there
talking with my dad when possible and said for most of the day it all seemed OK. The hospital was just taking care of his injuries.
So then on the last full day of the Retreat, just after the final
session by Barbara Coombs-Lee about end of life planning, I was sitting on the
back row talking with my financial planner about her father’s recent
passing. We were swapping tears and hugs
when my phone rang.
It was the hospital.
They began asking me questions about his medical background, to which I said: “This is the first I have spoken directly to anyone at the
hospital, so can you start by giving me an update on his status?” She reported having put him on a ventilator
due to what turned out to be a collection of issues he was facing, including
pneumonia, sepsis, UTI, broken arm, head laceration, and broken shoulder.
Wow, what a difference 24 hours can make.
I simply said: “You need to take him off the
ventilator.”
Both my sisters were aware
of the situation, and our father had always indicated his wishes to us. The nurse said he would certainly die if
they did that, and I calmly and confidently reiterated the request to remove the
ventilator. The doctor called too and
offered to wait until my sister arrived from Las Vegas. Having family on the ground and everyone in
agreement, along with the proper documents in place, made this go VERY smoothly
at an otherwise difficult time.
Kirsten Ismail and Ross Richardson, the Retreat deans, asked
attendees to put a little card into a treasure chest container with a thought, comment, or meaningful message on it to be read at closing circle. I had written one out with something I was
told by a lady I barely knew, who had given me a great hug at a previous gathering. After telling her that was one of the best
hugs I've ever gotten, she said: “My father always told me when someone hugs
you they are giving you a part of who they are. So make it worth their
while.”
During closing circle, Kirsten and Ross were
reading the cards at random from the box.
Ross takes one out and says: “I’m saving this one for last.”
It was the one I wrote.
After reading it they offered the microphone
to anyone who had something to say as a part of closing. I had no plans to say anything, and for the
most part was unemotional about the passing of my father the day before.
That is, until they handed me the microphone.
There were so many friends and loving people
at the Retreat that I was drawn into reporting my circumstances, and choking through my tears
I managed to tell the story and express my appreciation for being with people I
love.
Such was my experience. My father's wishes and plans for his life's end had been taken care of in advance so that I did not
need to go home and deal with chaos. Instead I was able to stay with my tribe
and feel the love and support that was expressed by so many.
But what does Grandma’s Hankie have to do
with anything?
Well, our FPA President, Evelyn Zohlen, brought me a hankie,
which I was in dire need of at the time.
After all was said and done, and after what one person called a HUG LINE
dispersed, I took the cloth handkerchief over to return it to Evelyn. (It appears I may need it again now as I write).
While in full embrace, living up to the card
Ross had read earlier, Evelyn said: “No, keep it.”
To
which I said: “But this looks like your grandma’s hankie.”
Her reply: “It was. I got all of hers when she passed and I keep
one with me always as a reminder of her.
Please keep it.”
In response, I
commenced needing grandma’s hankie again.
My sister arrived in OKC within an hour of my father’s
passing and began a series of wonderful experiences with our niece Kelsey and
her boyfriend. She just last year
retired as a corporate officer of one of the largest companies in the world and
was telling me how many texts and emails she had received in support of the
loss of her father.
She told me: “Everything
was handled so well it allowed us to focus on the sweetness of the situation, rather than drama and chaos.”
Thanks to all I have learned from Retreat over the years,
the strong relationships, and the amazing profession we are in, I can say
without reservation that HUGS AND WHISPERS OF LOVE AND SUPPORT beat texts and
emails any day!!! How interesting it was
to be both a planner and beneficiary in such a public way. I understood and received the power of being
vulnerable in a place that knows how to care for those in need.
I may not remember what I learned to earn the 7 CE credits I
needed to complete my CFP® requirement, but one thing is for sure: I will NEVER
forget how I felt in that closing circle.
Thanks for the love, words, and hugs.
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