My father-in-law, “Deacon Dad,” had breakfast this morning. My wife and #3 daughter were there, lending a hand. He had been hospitalized recently, returning home a few days back.
A priest came later in the morning, with the Eucharist. My father-in-law asked for, and received, a blessing. Then he started a nap, and died.
I can think of few better ways to leave this life.
The family is being told about today’s loss. Has been told, I would think, by now. It’s about twenty after four in the afternoon. The next few days will be — eventful. Interesting. It’s a largish family, and this is a major event in our lives.
We’re all feeling the loss, each according to our circumstances and nature.
My son and I had a good talk about woodworking, city planning, golf courses, the Myst/Cyan games — all of which made sense in these circumstances, for folks like us. Like me, anyway.
I’ve also wept a bit, and decided to start writing this.
There’s a lot to say. But I’ll skip pious platitudes, saccharin slogans and all that. This really doesn’t seem like a time for that sort of hokum. I’m not convinced that it’s ever appropriate. Except in stories, and that’s another topic.
Besides, I’ve talked about life, death, and the big picture before: