Topic: Family
"Hey Tige," I said to Mr. Tiger, brazen beast within, "yesterday at church..." The sassy Mr. Tiger abruptly interrupted before I could even finish my sentence. 'Since when do you go to church?' he snapped.
We could have entered into a long discourse about the nature of my spirituality; that being, that Life, with a capital L, is my church and religion. I hesitated though to go there with the pest, Mr. Tiger, because I didn't have the energy to deal with that particular topic today. I said instead, "I went to church yesterday for my mother's sake Tige," adding, "she wanted her children beside her for Feast of All Souls Day - a day the Catholic Church annually reserves for those who have preceded us in death. Yesterday we lit candles for the Faithful Departed in memory of my dad who passed away on November 28, 2005." I tacked on after a silent moment, "I'm thankful that I went."
There was really no way to bring today's discussion to a close, for it had hardly begun.
I opted to use a quote from my sister Sherry whose humbly expressed words this morning on our family's email chain, summed up the strain we were all feeling at this time last year. Sherry said, "I can't believe we all lived thru last year" to which another sister, who attended yesterday's mass before another for her young niece Jenna, also agreed. We all did. "I can't believe we lived through it either Sherry," said Tricia.
There wasn't much left to say so I ended today's entry with a picture of myself and my dad and a portion of a post originally published on December 5, 2005 at our father's funeral mass.
The eulogy of almost a year ago, was opened with a piece, Let Me Clue You in about My Father, written and read first by my sister Colleen for his 80th birthday and then again on the alter during a three part oration. My brother Joe told those in attendance about how our dad always encouraged him, in spite of his dyslexia - to build his first house, his second house, his third house - which eventually grew into the thriving construction company he owns today.
My contribution to father's eulogy follows:
The other morning I woke up with the words, "his contract was up" on my lips.
Our dad had fulfilled his end of the contract after raising 9 children - two of whom he and my mother buried.
I looked at these words as a message from those on the other side who invisibly hold us close when times get rough. Those words were a perfect way to explain our father's departure, for indeed "his contract was up" and no matter how much he loved his job here on earth, he had been letting us know, since the car accident that broke his neck on Oct 17th, that his "contract was up." The 42 days of hospital care had drawn to a close.
He wasn't going to do it the way Jimmy did. He knew the harshness of sudden accidental death and wouldn't put his family through that again.
He wasn't going to do it the way Danny did either - with a long lingering disease that sucked the life out of him.
The 42 days of hospital care was a gift to us, his family - it was to help us adjust to the end of his contract, even while we visited daily to root him on to health.
On the 42nd day my father said to my mother and sister Sherry, "today is the day." How could they have known that that meant it was the end of his contract?
Sherry's email that night excitedly informed us of his words that she and my mother took to mean a new beginning; for indeed it looked that way.
It turned out to be his best day.
He was up in a wheel chair for the first time.
He was talking lucidly for the first time in weeks.
Sherry told us too that he kept looking at the calendar. Did he know? Did he know that an extension to his contract would have been too hard? Too hard for not only himself but also his beloved Barbara who was his rock.
Looking back, I'd have to say that I think so.
Posted by ben-gal
at 2:40 PM EST
Updated: Monday, 6 November 2006 4:27 PM EST

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