“If we find ourselves with a desire that nothing in this world can satisfy, the most probable explanation is that we were made for another world.”

-C.S. Lewis

“Do not love the world or the things of the world. If anyone loves the world, the love of the Father is not in him.  For all that is in the world, sensual lust, enticement for the eyes, and a pretentious life, is not from the Father but is from the world.  Yet the world and its enticement are passing away. But whoever does the will of God remains forever.”

-1 John 2:15-17

My Last Week With Dad

Ten years ago today, my Dad left this world for his eternal reward.  He had heroically suffered from Parkinson’s Disease.  In years after receiving this diagnosis, never once did I see him sink into self-pity, but instead, he placed himself at the foot of the cross, allowing Christ to lead him through this difficult journey.  Throughout this time my mom demonstrated what unconditional, marital love really looked like.  She stood by him and cared for him to the absolute point of exhaustion, to a point that went well beyond what a human could endure alone. As she was getting to the end of her rope, Dad took a turn for the worse and lost his ability to walk or even swallow.  Hospice brought a hospital bed to the house and provided us with medical assistants to help us through what would be the last week of his life.  Mom was especially grateful Dad was able to spend his last week at home.

To this day, that week continues to be one of the most profound experiences in my life.  As each day passed, and my dad’s physical body continued to fail, the veil between heaven and earth seemed to grow thinner.  As difficult and emotional as it was, in many ways, it was also beautiful and magnificent.  It seemed like small miracles flowed from one day to the next.  Each afternoon I would drive to my parents’ house and be greeted by the Lilies in full bloom Mom had planted each Easter for the past 10+ years.  They were especially beautiful that year, and they calmed my soul each day as I walked through the door.  Mary’s maternal presence became more palpable by the day.  She felt especially close when we were praying the Rosary. I am sure that my grandmother was near.  One day I was looking out the window and the yard was covered with Cardinals.  There must have been a hundred little red birds scattered across the ground. Cardinals were one of my Grandmother’s favorites.   

The day Fr. Joe stopped by to anoint Dad was a turning point.  Not only did he give Dad his final Sacrament, but he blessed the entire house and yard, sang the Notre Dame Fight song to him, and gently spoke with Dad assuring him he was ready to move on.  Until then, Dad was restless and unsettled, but from that point forward, he was completely at peace.  

There were many other small moments that week.  Moments that can only point to God’s merciful love for us as we lived these final days with our dad, husband, uncle, and friend.  On the last day I drove up to the house, the Lilies that had greeted me each day were brown and wilted.  At that moment, in my heart, I knew this was going to be the last day.  Once inside I learned that Dad’s breathing had become more shallow and erratic.  Several hours later, those who had gathered in his room prayed a Hail Mary, and as we finished the prayer, he breathed his last breath.  At that moment, his eyes brightened, as if he was witnessing the most spectacular sight one could imagine.  And then there was an empty silence.  

Watching someone you love decline each day with no hope of recovery is difficult and sad.  Each day this once strong man exponentially grew weaker and weaker. Through this, I also witnessed the astonishing amount of grace Dad received, and how prepared he was to meet Our Savior. We were certainly blessed by the Church, including multiple visits from his parish priests. Friends and relatives stopped by each day to visit and say goodbye. I was privileged to be with my dad during those last moments, and it was such a consolation to know that he was ready.

As a Catholic, there were so many resources to help him prepare. The Sacraments, scripture, and sacramentals all played an important part in his life, and his journey was so beautiful. It is always hard to lose a parent, but I could not have asked for a more grace-filled experience.

Hours after Dad died, we learned his cousin also died on the same day.  Like Dad, he had spent the time before he passed surrounded by family, and the experiences were very similar. We also discovered that they died on the feast day of St. John Fisher, who happens to be an ancestor of both of them.  I can only imagine the reunion that took place between them and our family members who had passed before, and it is consoling to know that the Communion of Saints is there to support us. 

In St. Paul’s Letter to the Philippians, he says, “our citizenship is in heaven.” Everything in my Dad’s life, especially the last few years, prepared him for this reality, and he left this world surrounded by peace and love, rather than in fear and uncertainty.  I hope and pray that when my time comes, that I am as well prepared and surrounded by love as my dad.