In the quiet of the morning after your transition to heaven

Death is inevitable, but it doesn’t make it any easier. I’m the oldest. I should be the strong one. And yet, I am weak. I am sad. I can’t stop crying. I miss him and that smile already. But I am also thankful. I am thankful for the almost 61 years Dad was in my life. I am thankful for the unceasing, perfect love he gave us of us. For the sailboat rides together when I was a late teen and struggling to find my way. For the science projects and lab equipment he made for me. For the walks up to Lincoln School in his later years, which became walks around the triangle, and then at Christmas, walks up the block. For the camping trips and hikes, even the ones when he was afraid of heights, and slid down the trail on his butt. For raising me and my three siblings, then helping to raise his three grandchildren, and finally his great-grandson. For being willing to fight Non-Hodgkin’s lymphoma and then leukemia, quietly and without complaints, tolerating the suffering of chemo treatments.

As they say, you fought the good fight, Dad - but we will miss you and love you forever.

I write this now to document your passing, not because it brings tears, but because it reminds me of the love that is meant to be. That perfect love that knows no bounds. That perfect love that suffers with our brothers and sisters. I also write it to acknowledge and thank all who cared for you and made your passing easier.

Christmas 2017 was bittersweet. You had been struggling, but you rallied for all of us. I don’t think I’ll ever forget that last trip to Benjamin Brothers in Tenafly. We were going to go to the hardware store up town, but there were no handicap parking spaces available, so I told you we could go to Tenafly if you gave directions. You did exactly that and told us how you could really still drive - if Mom just let you. You walked in to the hardware store with your rollator, went right to the plumbing section, and got what we needed to fix the basement sink. You were strong. You were alert. Several times during the visit we walked up the block. The last time you struggled more but you made it up to the Stapleton’s house. We talked. You always listened. During that visit, Mom and I went shopping one evening. We bought you another Pannatone because you had been enjoying it so. Yet, I feared that you were rallying through Christmas for us. And that is exactly what happened.

As January progressed, you became weaker and weaker. You ate less. Mom worried more. We all worried more. My twice a day calls became three, maybe four times a day. I talked to Steve more. Barbara and Paulette and I communicated regularly. Mom and I talked over the phone - about just about everything, from the time you were exposed to chlorine gas at work, to air pollution incidents in NYC in the 60’s, to spraying pesticides in the neighborhood. I tried to convince her that she had done nothing wrong and she had done all she possibly could to make you well. But then on a weekend in January, you had become so weak that hospice was brought in. We cried in making that decision, but you deserved comfort and peace. We did not want you to suffer - it was time. But we did not want to let go.

On Friday (2/9) when Barbara thought you were going to pass, Mom remembered that decades ago her friend Paulette Pic had given her holy water from Lourdes. She went to the china closet and got it and blessed you with the holy water. You had family beside you - Steve, Roberta, Barbara, Erica, Stevie, Paulette, and of course, Mom. And little Noah. They sang to you. They turned on Pretty Woman, your favorite movie. They prayed with you. Steve busted your chops and wanted to know where the coffee was? You make the best coffee! And you tried to push off the covers to go make him coffee.

On Saturday, the hospice aide whose name is Lourdes, washed you. Family stayed by your side. Barbara and Paulette gave you the medicine to ease your pain and bring down your fever. Mom talked to you and held you. I called. We used Zoom so I could talk to you and see you. I told you how much I love you. And we would take care of Mom. I posted old pictures on Facebook, trying to feel connected despite the distance.

On Sunday, we gathered again together. Mom held you close. Technology brought Alicia from Arizona and me from Michigan. We both so wanted to be there. But I was scared - I had gotten so sick after Christmas. I’m sorry Dad that I was not there in person. But we still gathered. Erica sang The Rose. We prayed and I messed up the Our Father. So we tried the Hail Mary. I sang Seek Ye First. And we all cried. And we took solace in one another. Heidi would not leave your side. All morning, the dogs kept barking at the front door but no one was there. And around 12:30, Indira, Tony, and Barbara cleaned you and prepared you for your return home. And less than an hour later, your spirit left your body, and you transitioned to new life - a life free of suffering and pain - on the Feast Day of Our Lady of Lourdes. On a Sunday, when you could join Uncle Jerry and Aunt Betty for Sunday dinner, and Uncle Walt for those long Sunday afternoon talks.

It was less than an hour after your spirit passed that you performed your first miracle. Quentin called. I had emailed them* the night before to an address I had no clue if they still read. I told them that you were dying and gave them the house phone number along with Erica’s. I didn’t expect that they would call - but they did. Quentin talked with Barb and Roberta, and then with Erica for a long time. And they called back later to talk to Mom. Thank you, Dad. Its a first step, but a major step. Brought about by your perfect love for all of us.

Dad, may you rest in peace, and may we always carry with us your unceasing love, your compassionate heart, your devotion to family, your desire to leave the world a more loving place.

And thank you to everyone who were there in your last days: the hospice nurses and aides, the chaplain, and the hospice nurses. Indira and Tony. Barbara, Paulette, Steve, Roberta, Erica, Steve, Noah, and of course, Mom - who were there in person with you. Jeff and Simon, who were with me as we consoled one another and remembered the fun times. Alicia, who struggled alone at college her in room. Bill and Joe, who came to visit you. All those, too many to name. who prayed and held us close. And if I forgot anyone, I’m sorry. Again, thank you!

Dad, I love you more than the stars in the sky,

Susan (that first child - your “experimental model” as you and Mom would say)

Footnotes: My great niece, Kenzie, was born on the Feast Day of St. Bernadette, who saw Mary at Lourdes.