I have not been able to write about this until now. My father left this world early in the morning on December 4, 2022. I was holding him in my arms, trying to keep him upright so he could breathe easier. His other children, close by, holding his hand, telling him they loved him, watching in disbelief at what was happening. My mom, his wife of 73 years, lay in bed next to him, holding his hand not ever wanting to let go. I remember being surrounded by silence after his last breathe, then quiet sobbing and then slowly everyone filtered out of the room. My brother and I lay my Dad's body down in the middle of the bed and gently covered him, just as if he were sleeping. I left the room for a moment and as I came back I saw my brother, my Dad's only son, sitting on the bed, bent over and hugging his lifeless fathers body. He didn't see me as I turned around and left, to give him that time. Soon after, the funeral home attendants came. As they prepared to move my Dad's body, I waited quietly in the kitchen so I could walk him out. After they zipped up the body bag, they lay a blanket on top of him, A blanket the had been made with many of his family pictures on it. A picture of him in the Navy, his wedding day with his bride, his four young children, his brothers, his mom and dad...all weaved on that one blanket. They gently moved him through his home for the last time. I stood on the walkway outside the front door as he passed by. I helplessly looked on as they put my Dad's body into the Hearse and slowly drove away, leaving behind the home he had built for his family for over 70 years.
It had been a year of slow decline as his heart neared its expiration date of 97 plus years. Yes, he had a long, full and loving life. Ofcourse, I'm grateful. Ofcourse, I'm lost. For sixty-five years he was the one that I always could depend on. He always asked me how I was, how are the kids, do you have enough money, do you need anything? He was from a different time, a different way of life, and at times I struggled with his way of thinking. He was a devote faithful servant of God. I admired that in him. He could sing with the best of them and did so often. He was a Boston sports fan. His laugh and smile are tucked safely away in my heart.
I dreamt about him for this first time the other night, two months after his passing. He was trying to tell me something, he patted me on the arm and then a bright light and he was gone. I'll never forget the night before he died. I was lying next to him in his bed and I held his hand. He gently brought my hand to his lips and kissed it. No words, just a silent kiss on the back of my hand. I believe he was telling me with that kiss and in the dream, that everything is going to be alright.
Love never fails. He's always with us, in our hearts. Beautiful post. Love you, BamBam 💗🥰🌹
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