Honoring the Dead: A letter to Dad

Hi Dad,
It's been eleven years since you died at age 89 on November 4, 2000.  You would be 100 years old by now and we'd probably still be driving each other crazy.  Ah, we drove each other crazy but how we loved each other.  Your death was not unexpected.  You had been in and out of the hospital that last year more times than I could count.  After  much deliberation you decided to go into assisted living but you didn't stay there long until you were in the hospital again.  You were to go to a nursing home to get you back on your feet but you knew you were dying of emphysema and you were tired of fighting.  We weren't ready to let you go but had to listen when you decided to go with comfort measures only.

I got the call to come home to Moses Lake to come see you.  I came over on a Greyhound Bus with enough clothes to last me a couple of days.  I ended staying much longer.  I called my manager at my new job at Barnes and Noble in Seattle and told her the situation.  She said, "Take as long as you need."  I began participating in the vigil at your bed.  My oldest brother and I took the day shift.  My youngest brother and sister took the night shift.  My middle brother couldn't come because he had already taken off a lot of time from work during the year and couldn't manage any more.  My aunt flew in to see you one last time.  She had been very young when her father died and as big sister's husband you helped fill the roll. We kept you company on your journey.  On that last night the nurse told us we'd better call everyone because you would probably die that night.  We gathered around your bed, sons, daughters, grandsons, so that we could help you with your journey.  The nurse told us to keep talking to you even if you didn't seem responsive; you would know that you were not alone.  You died.  A young friend of the family and of yours had us make a circle of prayer around you.  You were in a place where you didn't have to labor to breathe.  You were Home.

I miss you, Dad.  I miss talking about the weather on the phone with you.  You often wanted us to send some of our Seattle rain to the dry-lands.  We didn't see eye-to-eye on religion or politics.  It was much safer to talk about rain; on that we could agree.  Oh, I want you to know that we take better care of our car now.  Mr. D and I take it in for regular maintenance so maybe you wouldn't remind us that you told us that the Dodge that died needed looking at.  Yup, we shoulda listened, but you know how kids are.

Love you lots and lots,
C

Honoring the Dead: A Letter to Andrew

Dear Andrew,

It's been half a year since you died.  It was in the spring time and it seemed so out of character for Spring to be a season of sadness.  Most of the people that I have mourned die in the fall or winter. You died on a rainy night in April; it was almost a monsoon.  You took your motorcycle.  I wish you could have taken the Volvo.  Whenever I ask myself why you had to die I have to remind myself that it was a dark and stormy night and the road was slick.  The other driver didn't see you.  When you were little your family had a bird that got caught by the family cat.  Your sister cried, "Why, why did the bird have to die."  You answered, "Because the cat had sharp teeth and claws".  There was no cosmic conspiracy.  It was just life.

A lot has been happening since you passed.  Did you know that they finally have that new skateboard park at Delridge.  I remember you riding up and down the street on your skateboard.  You would have liked the park.  I would love to see you flying up and down those curves. You have a new brother-in-law and a new niece.  One of your sisters got married one day in August; the other had a baby the next.  It's amazing how much sorrow and joy were packed into such a brief time for your family.  Your son is growing into an amazing three year-old.  You, your son's mom, and your parents have done a fantastic job!

I miss you so much.  Every time I see someone dressed like you I see you.  When you died I begged God to give you back.  I knew that wasn't possible in the grand scheme of things but I asked the way a child would ask a parent to fix something that is hopelessly broken.  I watched you grow up alongside my children.  I took care of you while your parents worked. You were almost a brother to my kids and you were almost a son to me.  I'm glad that you were a part of my life.

Love,
C

Honoring the dead

Today is the Feast of All Saints.  Tomorrow is the Feast of All Souls.  November is the month in which the Catholic Church turns its eyes toward our beloved dead.  At Holy Rosary we have been invited to put pictures of loved ones who have died on a special table to honor them.  We believe that death is not the end.  We pray for the dead and they pray for us.  In this change of seasons as the light turns to darkness for more hours, the leaves turn beautiful colors, and the weather grows colder I am drawn toward remembering those whom I have lost.  I am writing letters this month to the dead to honor their very special place in my heart.  Stay tuned.