Under a full harvest moon, my father drew his last breaths. How fitting for a man who grew up on a farm and who loved his garden. The scientist died peacefully, in his sleep, in the house he and my mother built for themselves and my sister and me. It was how he wished to die, and we are thankful it happened that way. Farewell, dearest Papa. I love you.
Blessings to your father as he’s off on the next leg of his journey.
Thank you, Laurie. My sister and I believe our mother was there to welcome him for the next leg of their journey together.
Laurie has already said everything that needs to be said…blessings to you also, my friend. Know that I am hugging you with my heart. xxx
Thank you, Joanne. In recent weeks my father had been asking us if our mother was still here, as if she had just left the room. On my way to the house after he died, a doe was standing on the side of the road and peered intently into our car. In that moment I understood my mother’s message, it’s okay, she has my father now…
That’s so beautiful Barbara, and yes, she does. It wouldn’t have been only your mother he was seeing either. My mother would look around the room, as if she could see something there, and one day she told me they would be closing the door soon. I cried.
My mother did the same thing, only she said she hoped they would hurry up. *hugs* for you, my friend…
Transition is always hardest on the ones left behind. Know he is always with you, in memory and heart. I made an alter for mom and Rays brother Ron who we lost this year. For me it keeps them close in thought and I find comfort there. Love and Light to you, Kimmie.
Thank you, Kimmie. It is difficult being left behind, although my father’s death was more welcomed by me than my mother’s tragically early death 22 years ago. I find comfort in the thought that they are together now. I love the idea of an altar – I think my family history research serves the same purpose for me.
Your father had a long and a good life and was fortunate to pass away peacefully in his own bed in the home where he raised his daughters.
I hope your many happy memories will soothe you during this sad time. I love your Mum’s message to you via the doe at the side of the road.
With deepest sympathy,
Rosie
Thank you, Rosie. It was a good death, and now suddenly everything is different again. I think we will be having a memorial on the Cape, on October 17, which was my mother’s birthday. The ashes of my mother and my grandparents are buried in the cemetery of the church where my parents were married, so it seems like a good time and place to gather…
As someone whose family has emigrated every generation since the 1880’s I cannot imagine parents and grandparents being buried in the same cemetery.
My mother’s roots on Cape Cod go back to the first European settlers – not only are my parents and grandparents buried in this church cemetery, but also sets of my 3rd, 4th and 5th great-grandparents. And a short distance away in Island Pond Cemetery, my 6th and 7th great-grandparents lie buried, and in the neighboring town, in Swan Lake Cemetery, are the graves my great-, 2nd and 3rd great-grandparents.
My father’s parents were Ukrainian immigrants and my father never even met his grandparents. Growing up I was well aware of this profound difference in family patterns. It was one of the things that got me so interested in family history.
http://rodgersgen.wordpress.com/2011/06/10/first-congregational-church-cemetery/
What history! I’d love to walk in those little cemeteries with you so I can share what it must feel like to walk down the paths where all your ancestors lie.
Looking forward to that day, Rosie. *hugs*
Reaching through the blog-o-sphere with a hug.
Moving on is an adventure. Being left behind is hard. You WILL see them again, of that I am sure.
Thank you, Sybil. My sister and I have the definite sense that our parents quickly took off together that night, on their newest adventure. We are very happy for them!
May his soul rest in peace. Heart felt sympathy Barbara.
Thank you, Sonali, for your sympathy and blessing…
*Hugs* and my heartfelt sympathies to you and your family, Barbara.
Thank you, Robin, for your sympathy and hugs…
Oh, I am so sorry, Barbara (and feel awful for a comment I just made on one of your posts in late August, as I am so far behind …). Heartfelt condolences to you and your family. How simple what you wrote here and how full of love and honor for your father. How full of the peace of passing from this world where and as he wished. Love and hugs, Diane ♥
Thank you, Diane. ♥ There is no need to feel awful – it’s the nature of blog-timing to catch things out of order – and I often get behind, too. It may sound strange, but it was a magical night. In has last weeks, while sleeping, my father would reach out into the air with his arms, and I remember thinking he might be reaching for my mother…
Oh, Barbara, deep sympathy to you. Even though you know he’s fine in the next phase of his journey, there still must be moments of sadness. Reading your last response to Diane and feeling the magic of it. May you be surrounded in love… Hugs, Barbara.
Thank you, dearest Kathy. Oh yes, there are moments of sadness and many tears, especially when I dwell on how much my father suffered during the last six years. But the happy memories are also bubbling up.
We asked my kids if they wanted any of Grandpa’s possessions to remember him by, and of all things, they asked for the tall plastic container where he used to keep his peanuts-in-the-shell. They fondly remember watching football and shelling peanuts with Grandpa in the living room when they were kids. The request made my sister and me smile!
That is so very sweet, Barbara. So many mixed feelings arising! I am thinking of you often.
Thank you, Kathy. It will be good to be with the whole family for several days on Cape Cod soon – all kinds of feelings.