Death of a Beloved

Death is horrible.

My dad died on Sunday; we were with him. It was not amazing, not exciting, or anything else. It was sad. The body was going downhill for several weeks, and the nurses were saying that he was getting
weaker. But we, ever optimistic, did not believe them. Oh we knew it was the last year of his life. And we cringed when he asserted that he would live "12 more years" (to be 100). But right up until the end, we did not really believe that he was dying.

They said that the goal now was to keep him calm, not agitated. They mostly succeeded in that. At the end he would peacefully depart, just like I had given him permission to do. But I had said to him "If its all the same to you, Dad, could you wait till Andy (my brother) arrives?" Well it wasn't the same to him, he wanted to go earlier, so Andy did not get to say goodbye to him in person. But he
talked on the phone to Dad a few hours before he died. So did 2 of his daughters and 4 of his grandchildren. Not counting the two that were in the room with me when he died.

One grandson spoke to dad, then when the phone was handed over to his cousin, he said through his tears, “This sucks.”

Yes, Neal, I agree, it sucks. Death is horrible.

In third world nations, death is not so strange. They see it more often. In our country, we shield the average person from it. I'm 61, and this is the first time I’ve been in the room with a dying person. Mother died 6 days after I said goodbye to her.

As the scriptures say “Ashes to ashes, and dust to dust; the spirit goes back to God who give it…”

But really, watching the body go downhill for years, taking turns for the worst in the last 7 months, is, well, awful. The mouth dries up, they sleep more, hurt all over, their teeth decay, they lose weight, and become confused… I started grieving for dad over two years ago. I used to cry when I couldn’t understand him on the phone. When I would kiss him goodbye, in his confusion he would say things like “Do you have your ticket to Challis?”

Grieving is a process, and Americans aren’t good at it. I’m determined to grieve well.  But I shudder when I remember some of the circumstances of the last 7 months. I want to forget them.

I want to remember dad as he was: humorous, always ready with a joke, a good listener, friendly, the life of the party, kind, compassionate, always organizing something, and joyful from an optimistic outlook on life.

“Trees planted in a row, man planted. But trees planted all over the place, God planted,” Dad told me once when I was young. I learned a lot about God from Dad.  He inspired me, corrected me, and taught me. He continues to do so, with his earnestness for justice, humility (he knew who he was before God), and desire to do good to all people.

No wonder wherever he went he was a favorite! What a beloved man he was!

Death is horrible. Death is painful. Death is the last enemy to be overcome. That’s where Christians have the answer, for no one other than Jesus Christ has overcome death: “O Death, where is your Victory, O Grave where is your Sting? Thanks be to God who gives us the victory in Christ Jesus!” (I Cor. 15)

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