Air, fire, delusional government, then such a lengthy ... waiting.

As 'Conservator' of a similarly (already declined) Aunt, I recall her period of content: she was a 5-7 yo and seemingly content in that role; earlier she had come up with pure poetry,
"I don't know who I am
I don't know where I am
There's no place I want to go
And nothing I want to do".

But there was a Consciousness there, despite. Perhaps your father had some contented moments, though unable to communicate the mood..

Wishing you some peace.