My father passed away the Saturday before last.  He died at 8am and was buried at 4pm.  In Brazil embalming is not customary, so burials are normally within 24 hours.  I chose not to wait for the next day.  To me it would be prolonging my mother’s pain.

A lot relatives and friend’s didn’t make it to the funeral, or even found out about his death until after, but I am still comfortable with my choice.  To me, the faster the burial, the faster the grief process can begin.  We honor him every day by the fond memories and funny stories we share.

It was not expected, even though he had been dealing with many illness for decades. He died in the hospital, but peacefully, and for that I am extremely grateful.

I am grateful for God’s generosity.  I was here with my family so I was able to care for him on his final days. I was able to make the funeral arrangements, buy a plot, etc.

He is at peace.  I do not question for a moment God’s wisdom and timing. We, the family, are comforted by the memories and because we all have done our best to care for him and provide him with the best and most comfortable life.

I was sleeping with him at the hospital.  He had been admitted the day before, and that is when we found out he pneumonia, besides the other illnesses.  In the middle of the night I heard him say my mother’s name, even though he had oxygen mask on, and was no longer speaking.  I got up and went to him and he was sleeping.  I said: “Dad, don’t worry about mom.  If that is the reason you are holding on, go in peace.  There are a lot people to care for her.”  I said a couple of prayers and held his hand for awhile.

A nurse came in, and said all was okay and that I should try to get some sleep.  This was about 5am. I woke up at 8am, shocked that I has fallen asleep. I looked at him and knew in my heart he was gone.  He was still warm, but not breathing anymore.  As a family we chose not to try any invasive method to keep him alive, such as resuscitate or intubate. 

No regrets. We will now continue to love and care for my mother as best as we can. 

Do Not Stand At My Grave And Weep

Do not stand at my grave and weep
I am not there; I do not sleep.
I am a thousand winds that blow,
I am the diamond glints on snow,
I am the sun on ripened grain,
I am the gentle autumn rain.
When you awaken in the morning’s hush
I am the swift uplifting rush
Of quiet birds in circled flight.
I am the soft stars that shine at night.
Do not stand at my grave and cry,
I am not there; I did not die.

By Mary Elizabeth Frye