Rest in Peace

For the past few weeks while I was in the hospital, my Dad, who would have been 105 on July 14, was in another hospital where he was being treated for a foot infection.

Dad hated being in the hospital. This time it was even harder on him because Cristina, his regular caregiver (who he adored), was on a much needed two-week vacation.  Also, for an obvious reason, I couldn’t visit him.  He was at home when she returned last Monday. That was a good day for Dad, but the next morning he told his nighttime caregiver, “Get Cristina.”

When she arrived a few minutes later he was non responsive.  The medics from 911 could not revive him.

I know that when someone we are close to dies we often blame ourselves for having not seen them “just one more time” or for not having the opportunity to say “I love you” just once again. I, however, feel at peace.

For many years Dad and I visited regularly and a mutual “I love you” was always a part our temporary, and now final, goodbye.  That is why I sometimes eat my desert first. After all, you never can tell.

I’ve read that the only reliable paths to happiness are to help others, and to feel gratitude. Today is a day for gratitude.

Dad, I’m grateful that you were a large part of my life for almost eighty years.  I’m especially grateful for all you taught me, from an appreciation for how music is created to the importance of saving money, from relaxing my throat and speaking with a deeper voice to the joy in teaching others, and from the cultivation of long term relationships to loving and always being supportive of my children.

It is said that brevity is the soul of wit, so on this Tuesday when I share this blog with you, my family – your family – and I will be publicly sharing our joy in your being with us for so long, and our grief that this sharing has come to an end.

Rest in peace, Dad. Rest in peace.

Love,

Alan