My Father Angelo

This past Tuesday was the funeral for my father, Angelo. He had been ill for some time so his loss should not have been surprising. In the past, whenever he had been ill, he demonstrated incredible resilience and seemed to bounce back from various ailments, not unscathed, and certainly slowed down, but bounced back nonetheless. This most recent illness was different. He needed surgery for excruciating back pain which triggered an onset of other serious illnesses.

On the final night before he died, my father was surrounded by his children and several grandchildren, all of us letting him know that he was not alone and that he was loved. In my words to him, I struggled to tell him that it was okay to let go if he wanted to, that we were okay and that we would take care of mom. At the same time, I wondered if he was afraid of leaving us and I told him that I would go with him. Angelo did not look afraid. He looked at me and I wondered what he was thinking. I believe that he did not want to see any of us in pain. He wanted and wants us to be happy and to love each other and to be good people.

In previous days, and in the days ahead, I know that I will experience various degrees of grief. Losing a parent is a game changer. It is a big deal. However, there are many blessings I have experienced in the process. My family and I have been close and supported each other through this process. I have rediscovered who is truly important in my life. I was able to see people I have not seen in some time. I have learned more about my father and his life. My faith in God has deepened. I also realized that time spent with family, friends, doing enjoyable work, and being good to others are truly important things to my father Angelo and I now realize they are to me as well.

A kind coworker recently gave me a booklet called “Gone from my Sight: The Dying Experience” written by Barbara Karnes, RN. She found it comforting in a time of grief and thought to share it with me. It was comforting, and has helped me make more sense of my father’s passing and where he was headed. In the booklet was this poem:

I am standing upon the seashore. 

A ship at my side spreads her white sails 

to the morning breeze and starts for the blue ocean. 

She is an object of beauty and strength. 

I stand and watch her until at length 

she hangs like a speck of white cloud 

just where the sea and sky come to mingle with each other. 

Then someone at my side says: 

“There, she is gone!” 

“Gone where?” 

Gone from my sight. 

That is all. 

She is just as large in mast and hull and spar 

as she was when she left my side 

and she is just as able to bear the load 

of living freight to her destined port. 

Her diminished size is in me, not in her. 

And just at the moment when someone at my side says: 

“There, she is gone!” 

There are other eyes watching her coming, 

and other voices ready to take up the glad shout: 

“Here she comes!” 

And that is dying… 

—Henry Van Dyke