The Details

Bits and pieces of the story unfold as I talk with one sibling, then another. Mom left the hospital at 10pm, Deb was seeing signs of the end, and worried that Dad would panic, struggling for air that would no longer come. She did not want Mom to have to witness that. Mom had been gone not quite an hour when Deb, who had been watching his carotid artery pulse, noticed that there was no longer a pulse. He was gone quietly and without a struggle or panic. She called home, and Mom and Jan returned to the hospital for goodbyes. My sisters gave Mom time to say her private farewells before entering the room one last time.


By all reports, he should have left this world days ago. What had held him here despite all odds? During the day, the nurse suggested that maybe Dad was hanging on for one last person. Who could it be? All the kids had come. Jimmy thought it might be the former pastor of the church with whom Dad had worked so closely. They called him, and Pastor Bell prayed with Dad over the phone. That night when Mom left, instead of saying "I will see you tomorrow," Mom simply said, "Goodbye, Jim."



The time since his passing has been spent making arrangements. The funeral home people have been wonderfully helpful and comforting for Mom. I still find myself dissolving into bouts of tears, but that is natural. I see how it will be for my kids when my time comes. I believe I will have a chat with the funeral home and make a lot of these arrangements in advance so they won't have to. And I realize I need to set aside more money - its expensive to die!



The tasks are numerous - its a lot of work putting together a memorial service and switching all the stuff out of Dad's name. Almost as much fussing as my wedding so many years ago. It was not like this when Michael died. But at last Mom and Jan have things set.



Monday, December 28th there will be viewing hours at the Gordon C Emerick Funeral Home (the one the family has used since time immemorial) in Clifton Park from 3 to 4 for family, then 4 to 8 for others.

Tuesday is the private interment at Albany Rural Cemetery - in the family plot where I now have my own slot.

Then Wednesday morning at 10, the memorial service at Redeemer Reformed Presbyterian Church in Queensbury, the church Dad helped pioneer. Mom has asked that in lieu of flowers, donations be sent to the church.



Many of my siblings will not return for the funeral. They chose, wisely, to come while Dad was well enough to know who was there, to help when Mom needed people around. They do not have the resources and time off to come back from California, from Colorado, from Tennessee. I am glad I am close enough to be there. And I send flowers anyways, despite Mom's druthers.



I too make plans. I make arrangements with the Vet to board Sugar while we will be gone, an odd job amongst running all those last minute Christmas errands. Not the kind of task one wants to handle on Christmas Eve, but its OK. Surprisingly, the warmth of the Christmas lights helps, pointing with hope as they do towards an eternal world beyond our own, a place where there are no tears, no suffering, no death.

I embrace the birth of Christ as I embrace the death of my Father,
with quiet hope in what is yet to come.

Requiem eternam dona eis, Domine,
et lux perpetua luceat eis.

Grant unto him eternal rest, O Lord,
and let perpetual light shine on him.

And on us all.