My Dad looked into my eyes three times and smiled. I showed him how Sarah and I say I love you without saying a word. We squeeze three times the other persons hand and return four. As I told him he squeazed my hand then ten seconds later he squeazed two times. I know he was trying.
My Dad was never very religious in his life, but the family has been catholic forever. Yesterday was Ash Wednesday, so my Dad’s oldest sister and youngest brother went to mass and returned with a small container of ash. A chaplain came by and showed my Aunt how to administer the ash. We all new Dad would like the blessing, and I was in no position to argue, I wanted to let the family have closure.
In the evening, we went to the video store and picked up a few videos to help us through the night, we were watching one when Aunt Glynis said to turn it off, and we need to do the ash blessing. When we all stood around my Dad’s bed, Aunt Glynis began showing us the signs Dad was exhibiting that indicated death was near. I’m not going to describe it here because I can barely think, and while the image will remain in my head, I don’t think it needs to be described in great detail here. I also refused to take any pictures of him, I want to remember my Dad as the gentle giant he was.
They asked me to say the catholic prayer and draw a cross on his forehead with the ash. As soon as I did, I prayed as well while my Grandma and Aunts did their hails. As soon as we were finished, the last hours turned into the last minutes. His sudden surge was to look around, squeeze my hand, then squeeze Grandma’s hand, gave a smile, and over the next few minutes, his minutes turned to moments. He was holding on for his little brother, my Uncle Kevin. He wasn’t at the bed side more than a minute when dad took his last breath. I was too emotional to try and sense the presence of God, and the floodgates opened on all of us.
I eventually prayed, and in my prayer I asked God to give us a supernatural peace. Just a few seconds later my Aunt Gail said she felt at peace, and asked if that was selfish. I was able to explain to her that it is most definitely not selfish, Dad would not want any of us to suffer, and we need to realize he is in a better place.
That was at 11:42pm.
The nurse came a few hours later from across the City, and shortly after the Funeral Home came to take his body. As we said our last goodbyes in “Grandmas Kitchen,” a popular Rumfelt eatery, I asked the gentlemen from the funeral home to do a favor for us while they left.
“A soldier receives a 21 gun solute as he leaves, a Rumfelt waves and honks the horn.” – Jon
As the truck with his body pulled out of the driveway, they honked the horn and we waved. All of us cried. At the corner they honked again, and my knees buckled as I broke down in the arms of Sarah.
We went back inside and for the first time in my life, the Rumfelt house was quiet. We sat in the living room in silence, then whispers. An hour later we all decided to get some sleep. It was 4:30 am, and none of us could keep our eyes open. This would be the first night everyone slept, the watchmen could rest, and rest we did.
This morning we are trying to arrange the funeral, and deal with all the administrative complexities related to death. As soon as we have the details of the wake, I will post address and phone for anyone wanting to send flowers.
Thank you for your prayers, he will be missed sorely.
The plan now is to respect his wishes and have him cremated. I suggested we pick up some hourglass kits and ask to have his ashes placed inside. Dad was the kind of person who would not want to be a piece on the wall you stare at, but something that will remind you of him. Dad was the life of the family, the comedian, and the timepiece. If Dad said he would be there, he would be there, and he would come bringing jokes and drinks. At the risk of a bad pun, I suggested the hourglass so we could “spend some time with” him and his memories. He left a legacy, stories that will make you laugh and cry, lessons learned and lessons taught, inspiration and correction. It’s our job to pass it on.
Love you Dad
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