As Dad grew older, he came to accept his death.
When Dad first broke his hip in 2008, he thought of the old hymn, "I'll Fly Away."
"Some glad morning when this life is o'er, I'll fly away..."
As the years went on and his body gave way to aging, he looked forward to that glad morning.
A month or two before dad passed, Dad laid in bed sick. I went into the bedroom and laid next to him. He said to me "My heart has been beating for ninety-five years and that's a lot of pounding." He had become weary. His body was wearing out.
Death was not something he wanted to avoid. During a visit to the heart doctor to discuss the TAVR (Transcatheter Aortic Valve Replacement) procedure, Dad said he did not want the TAVR. The decision made him happy.
Helping him with a needed change of clothes one day, Dad was worried it was a trick. He did want to see any more doctors. He had accepted it was his time to fly away.
While I had hoped for him to have the operation, I realized how cruel it would be to convince him to have the procedure, extend his life, and not allow him to live his life as he desired.