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Update - Michael's father.
Michael's father is still in his right mind and able to talk with Michael, although he can only get two or three words out at a time before he has to take a wheezing breath.
That is a great gift, and one that we have always known Michael might not have, at the end.
He is not in continual pain. The pain comes and goes. The shortness of breath is constant.
Tomorrow Michael is going with him to a doctor's appointment. Michael's father is planning to tell the doctor that he doesn't want any more blood transfusions (he's been getting them more than weekly) or treatments, and that he would like hospice care at home to make him comfortable. I expect that they will give him morphine in large amounts. The thing about morphine is that it makes you feel okay about not having enough oxygen. Which is a mercy, but it also means that probably from this point out he will be pretty sedated until the end.
Without blood transfusions and treatment for the infection he seems to have, death is likely to come sooner rather than later. We may have a week or two.
It's very painful for me to not be with Michael right now, when he needs me.
Michael's father seems to have come to a place of acceptance. He told Michael that he is ready to go home to Jesus. And he made a point of telling Michael where to find the will, and the certificates of deposit, and the insurance policies. We had already discovered, a few weeks ago when Alex's birthday check arrived, that he had added Michael's name to their bank account.
I am trying to puzzle out what we will want to do with a two-year-old and a six-year-old at a full Southern funeral, complete with lengthy open-casket visitation. I am wasting my time worrying about things like what the children have that they can wear, because the other things that I might think about right now are hard and ultimately unprofitable.
I love Michael's father. I love Michael. This is hard.
That is a great gift, and one that we have always known Michael might not have, at the end.
He is not in continual pain. The pain comes and goes. The shortness of breath is constant.
Tomorrow Michael is going with him to a doctor's appointment. Michael's father is planning to tell the doctor that he doesn't want any more blood transfusions (he's been getting them more than weekly) or treatments, and that he would like hospice care at home to make him comfortable. I expect that they will give him morphine in large amounts. The thing about morphine is that it makes you feel okay about not having enough oxygen. Which is a mercy, but it also means that probably from this point out he will be pretty sedated until the end.
Without blood transfusions and treatment for the infection he seems to have, death is likely to come sooner rather than later. We may have a week or two.
It's very painful for me to not be with Michael right now, when he needs me.
Michael's father seems to have come to a place of acceptance. He told Michael that he is ready to go home to Jesus. And he made a point of telling Michael where to find the will, and the certificates of deposit, and the insurance policies. We had already discovered, a few weeks ago when Alex's birthday check arrived, that he had added Michael's name to their bank account.
I am trying to puzzle out what we will want to do with a two-year-old and a six-year-old at a full Southern funeral, complete with lengthy open-casket visitation. I am wasting my time worrying about things like what the children have that they can wear, because the other things that I might think about right now are hard and ultimately unprofitable.
I love Michael's father. I love Michael. This is hard.
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I think worrying about what they wear and what food you take (all that way!) and those details is the sensible thing you can do because there's no use worrying about the rest of it.
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Keep busy, its what I did, but acknowledge what is happening, and prepare the kids for it.
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I don't know enough about the funeral customs to have any suggestions.
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WRT kids and the funeral, Jeff's grandmother just died over Christmas, and I fretted about many of the same things. I wasn't sure the kids would go, and worried about them not having any clothes along on the trip.
In the end, the children were expected and very welcome to be there. We sat near the edge, but they were decent if a bit wiggly. Jeff was a pallbearer, so he sat in the front and I was on my own with the boys. There were other kids, and afterwards, during the luncheon, they ran around, being kids, hiding in all of the chairs. I was fearful that they were being disrespectful, but all of Jeff's elderly family came up to us and said how happy they were to see little boys being little boys - it made them feel young again.
I was worried about the viewing, but they attended, saw their great-grandmother, and were very thoughtful about it. They asked questions, but seemed ok about everything.
The key differences were that Jeff's grandmother was in her 90s, and those funerals tend to be a relief, expected, and a family reunion. Also, the boys did not know her well, and were thus not incredibly emotionally attached. This was also a casual Wisconsin farm crowd. And of course, Edward was much older than Colin, though if I know your little guy, he'll charm everybody in sight. I'm sure he'll be a welcome relief.
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The memorial service was significantly delayed, though (at the request of his mother; she didn't want it held until "a season" had passed and then "only if you must," sigh.) I don't recommend that approach, FWIW. Anyway, we went out for the memorial service the following spring. It was about as far from an open casket Southern deal as you can get, though.
This is actually a good time of year to find a dress for a little girl to wear to a funeral; Easter dresses are on sale. (I bought Molly one in light blue -- the year before MIL died, actually. She'd been in poor health for years when she died, and there'd been a series of crises, each of which we were surprised when she pulled through.)
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Hugs, support.
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I don't know whether you're concerned that they'll be upset by attending an open casket funeral and a big funereal show, but if so, I just wanted to offer my experience. Kind of as an assurance that it isn't necessarily a bad thing if you're forced by lack of childcare to take them. I'm not saying you should or shouldn't! Just saying that it's OK either way. You love them very much and are a great mom. I thought you might like to hear from someone who went to one of these things as a very young child and how it turned out.
When I was very young (about 5), my grandfather passed. The funeral included an open casket visitation, a full Catholic service, and a 21 gun salute at the gravesite. I attended everything. My mom's family is big enough that they filled the church. There was a huge post-funeral get together as well.
While it was odd to me, as a child, I actually look back on that experience as a positive thing. My mom explained that grandpa had passed away, and I peered into the casket (as kids do), but I did not find it traumatic or upsetting. (Boring at times, yes.) For me, it was a good introduction to the ways of death, and I found it comforting and still think of it from time to time.
Having kids, including babies and toddlers, is part of the tradition of my mom's culture, and it may be different there, but because of that tradition, there's a certain amount of social slack given to the parents to take the kid outside, or to shush them, or to go into a side room for a few minutes so they can run around.
Anyway. I just wanted to offer some reassure in case you end up having to take them.
In the meantime, I'm sending loving thoughts to you and Michael and Michael's father.
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I went to some kind-of (Missouri) southern funerals as a kid; children got a lot of leeway and tended to be grouped up together away from much of the goings-on. I think a lot of the trauma of open caskets has to do with adults' trying to force things on kids, whether making them look or making them not look. You don't really operate that way.
P.
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I'm now living in a culture where children do not ordinarily attend funerals, and I find it very odd.