Ramble On

Death is nothing else but going home to God, the bond of love will be unbroken for all eternity. - Mother Teresa

On Saturday June 8'th at a little past 7:00 pm Boston time, my father took his last breath.  I had the privilege of spending the day with him and my mom the Sunday before.  I took him outside to breathe the fresh air and feel the sun.  I rolled him outside in his special reclining chair as he could no longer sit upright.  It was a glorious day.  We covered him up to keep him comfortable.  The three of us just sat together.  Not saying much.  There was little more left to be said.  We knew that the end was drawing near.  He lost his ability to speak.  He drifted in and out of sleep as the other side was calling out to him.  Fighting to stay alive to the end.  I kept telling him that I was there and that I loved him.  "Everyting's ok", I repeated, "We're here".  Age had finally taken its toll.  Life was collecting it's final dues and there was simply nothing left in him.  He could no longer do anything by himself without assistance.  It was time.  The way it is.

Ninety-five years old.  Never a day in the hospital.  Working the same job for over forty years and never missing a day.  Married to my mom for over fifty-nine years. The fifth born of eight children of Italian immigrants.  He grew up during the Great Depression and served in the U.S. Marine Corps during World War II.  Mowing his own lawn with a push mower and shoveling snow from his driveway.  He enjoyed his yard and grew tomatoes in the summer.  My mother held his hand to the end and he kept squeezing it firmly.

My chest heaves with grief as I type these words.  My pillow wet with tears from last night as I tried to sleep.  My only solace is that he was not in pain and did not suffer.  It's always darkest before the dawn.  The Lord blessed him with a faithful, caring wife, two children, four grandchildren, a long, healthy life and a peaceful, dignified death.  You made it Dad.  You are my unsung hero.  I know that you are now with God, your parents and siblings on the other side.   Enjoy the new dawn ...

... as you ramble on ...

Goodbye Dad.  I'll see you again.  Keep the tomato sauce simmering and the pasta boiling.  We'll have a cold beer or some red wine from Parma, where your mother was from.  We'll watch the game on T.V. Just sitting and talking about life and everything.  Sharing a few laughs.  Souls glowing.  Finally knowing ...

I love you.

-- Peter

Author's Note

"I went to the woods because I wished to live deliberately, to front only the essential facts of life, and see if I could not learn what it had to teach, and not, when I came to die, discover that I had not lived." - Thoreau

"Live your life, do your work, then take your hat." - Thoreau

Reviews

[chrysantheranium]

Thank you for sharing, Pete. Your father sounds like an absolutely amazing man, and I'm so very glad that not only did the memories with him stay cherished in your heart, but you were willing to share those memories to the world and let them be cherished by others as well. I'll be keeping you and your family in my thoughts, and I give you all my condolences. May he rest in peace.

[Pete]

thank you chrysantheranium. i appreciate it ... :)

[Kelly Scheppers]

I am so sad to learn of his passing, Pete. How wonderful for you to have had so many years with him. Ninety five sounds like a rich, full life...what a blessing! Please know you are in my thoughts. Take care, my friend!

[Pete]

thank you sincerely Kelly. will do ... :)