For the past few weeks, every time the phone rang my heart would jump. Could this be THE call?
As Christmas Eve was about to turn into Christmas day, the phone rang, but only once and was quickly answered. I was just about to head to bed when I heard the door open to my mother's bedroom and she exited, crying and said "Peter? Dad died."
Even though we all knew this was inevitable, we didn't see this coming. Not today. My father's fever had dropped. His swelling had dropped. His strong grip had returned. As a matter of fact, he never wanted to let you go. How could he have died today? Are they sure? There are a lot of old people in that nursing home. Are they sure? Are they sure it is my father? My mother's husband? The man I had just kissed a few hours before?
I held my mother and we weeped. She said she was going down to the nursing home and I quickly agreed I would join her. As I went into get dressed I awoke my wife and said "Honey? My father... died." I could barely get the words out. We woke the kids and told them. They were crying and my wife comforted them.
I took it upon myself to call all the family. One by one, from oldest to youngest, I called them and told them the news. Some cried immediately. Some struggled comprehending it. We were all entering unfamiliar territory.
The drive back to the nursing home very early Christmas day was odd. My mother bemoaned the fact that she hadn't gone back to see him. I tried to convince her there was no way she could have known.
When we arrived at the nursing home we were met with my sister and brother-in-law as well as the parish priest. Father said with a smile "if an 81 year old woman can get out of bed this late, then so can I."
We all walked into the darkened nursing home and met with the nurse in charge. She said she went on duty at 11 p.m. and found my father dead when she got to his room around 11:50 p.m. Father has mentioned that he had come by around 2:00 p.m. and that my father was alert, eyes open and in good spirits.
As we walked down the hall to my father's room, I was nervous. My oldest brother had died in 1994 and I remember looking at him in his hospital room. He was so pale and white and gaunt. I wasn't sure what my father would look like and that scared me.
Upon entering the room and approaching my father's body, he too was white and gaunt and cold. It was then I realized just how unimportant a body is without a soul. I looked at my father's body and recognized it, but knew my father was not there. His soul, everything that he was to me, was long gone.
Father said a few prayers and my brother-in-law mentioned how special Christmas Eve was to my father and that, perhaps when we were all praying around the nativity earlier, that my father was with us as well.
We walked back out to the parking lot and into the brisk, cold North Carolina air. We thanked Father for coming out so late and we hugged our family members good bye. On the way back to the cabin my mother and I were both saddened and felt a sense of relief. The burden of the sickness put upon my father was finally over. His pain was gone. His suffering was over. His soul released.
The following day my sister mentioned something that I can only imagine is true. At some point on Christmas Eve, an angel appeared to my father and said simply, "C'mon Charlie, it's time to go."
Why Christmas Eve?
As Christmas Eve was about to turn into Christmas day, the phone rang, but only once and was quickly answered. I was just about to head to bed when I heard the door open to my mother's bedroom and she exited, crying and said "Peter? Dad died."
Even though we all knew this was inevitable, we didn't see this coming. Not today. My father's fever had dropped. His swelling had dropped. His strong grip had returned. As a matter of fact, he never wanted to let you go. How could he have died today? Are they sure? There are a lot of old people in that nursing home. Are they sure? Are they sure it is my father? My mother's husband? The man I had just kissed a few hours before?
I held my mother and we weeped. She said she was going down to the nursing home and I quickly agreed I would join her. As I went into get dressed I awoke my wife and said "Honey? My father... died." I could barely get the words out. We woke the kids and told them. They were crying and my wife comforted them.
I took it upon myself to call all the family. One by one, from oldest to youngest, I called them and told them the news. Some cried immediately. Some struggled comprehending it. We were all entering unfamiliar territory.
The drive back to the nursing home very early Christmas day was odd. My mother bemoaned the fact that she hadn't gone back to see him. I tried to convince her there was no way she could have known.
When we arrived at the nursing home we were met with my sister and brother-in-law as well as the parish priest. Father said with a smile "if an 81 year old woman can get out of bed this late, then so can I."
We all walked into the darkened nursing home and met with the nurse in charge. She said she went on duty at 11 p.m. and found my father dead when she got to his room around 11:50 p.m. Father has mentioned that he had come by around 2:00 p.m. and that my father was alert, eyes open and in good spirits.
As we walked down the hall to my father's room, I was nervous. My oldest brother had died in 1994 and I remember looking at him in his hospital room. He was so pale and white and gaunt. I wasn't sure what my father would look like and that scared me.
Upon entering the room and approaching my father's body, he too was white and gaunt and cold. It was then I realized just how unimportant a body is without a soul. I looked at my father's body and recognized it, but knew my father was not there. His soul, everything that he was to me, was long gone.
Father said a few prayers and my brother-in-law mentioned how special Christmas Eve was to my father and that, perhaps when we were all praying around the nativity earlier, that my father was with us as well.
We walked back out to the parking lot and into the brisk, cold North Carolina air. We thanked Father for coming out so late and we hugged our family members good bye. On the way back to the cabin my mother and I were both saddened and felt a sense of relief. The burden of the sickness put upon my father was finally over. His pain was gone. His suffering was over. His soul released.
The following day my sister mentioned something that I can only imagine is true. At some point on Christmas Eve, an angel appeared to my father and said simply, "C'mon Charlie, it's time to go."
Why Christmas Eve?
My Mother and I along with my nephew praying over my sister and her husband.
We think it is a blessing. A gift given by God to my father in honor of what my father had instituted in our family. The holiness he treated Christmas Eve. The traditions that he had put in place. For all of the souls he had touched. For all of the people my father had prayed over at the nativity scene. For the amount of respect and love and honor and glory my father had offered up to God his entire life.
We feel that taking my father on Christmas Eve was a gift. A blessing. Just one of a hundred life altering, memorable and holy blessings I received spending time with my mother, my family and especially my father... holding his hand, kissing him, praying with him and for him, loving him and letting him know it was okay to go.
Seven days full of blessings during the last week of my father's life.
We feel that taking my father on Christmas Eve was a gift. A blessing. Just one of a hundred life altering, memorable and holy blessings I received spending time with my mother, my family and especially my father... holding his hand, kissing him, praying with him and for him, loving him and letting him know it was okay to go.
Seven days full of blessings during the last week of my father's life.
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3 comments:
You were given a very special gift. We have all come up to visit Dad. Some of us many times. We've all expressed our love for him and have prayed over him. But you took a special journey with him and Mom. You walk the last mile, held hands, prepared him for what was to come and waited with him for that time. That is an eternal experience...and a special gift from the Almighty! I know you will cherish it the rest of your life.
Thanks for the reflections on the last days of dad's life. It was so beautiful seeing so many family members here during the final two months of his life.Each child made one, two or three trips up to see him. His final days were probably more stressful for you who were away than it was for mom and I who were here. Thanks to all of you for the sacrifices you made to come. Thank you for the comfort and companionship you gave mom. This is what family is all about.
Grandpa was a very special and unique person. I am honored to have had the chance to know him. I know now how hard it is to lose someone but, I also realize how sick he was and what a blessing it was for him to go. Everyday I thank God for Grandpa and I pray for him, he has done so much for our family, and it is reflected in all of us. My only hope now, is that is is always with us (even when golfing)and continues to teach us everyday for the rest of our lives. A special thanks to all who prayed for him.
Merry Christmas! Happy New Year!
-DC
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