One Month Since Passing.

It's been over a month since my dear Dad passed away. His rapid progression and death was unexpected. Well technically the signs were there. He had a significant slope downward in his health and we had been forewarned that week by our hospice nurses that he was in a declined state, but to me the progressions moved slowly since I was with him nearly 24 hours per day and I couldn't see the subtle changes. Dad leaving me was the farthest thing from my mind. I just did what I had always done from the beginning: buck up and do what needed to be done so that Dad was comfortable and not in pain. But the signs were there–perhaps we the caregivers were a bit myopic in our scope because of the intensity of the caregiving. In the broader picture, we perhaps should have prepared for an obituary in advance. But in the midst of intense caregiving, who thinks of these things? Well the time came. He departed us here on Earth, his light extinguished as fast as a candle on a windy night. That evening he was there, I rested for half an hour, and he was gone.

Hour Glass Sands

My time with you,
is like hourglass sand.
I can see your sand,
me, watching desperately
helpless from the other side
of the hourglass; and you–
slipping away slowly
right before my very eyes.
I bear your witness,
strong for you but
suffering inside, watching
until the last grain
of your hourglass sand
falls into the abyss.

The deafening silence
loud enough to break
that glass in pieces
because our souls cry
out to have you back,
but not like that,
just not like that.

I envision that place
where your soul went–
the glass empty
and you, in no pain.
I see the glass and the sand
overturned, and you
whole.

In Paradise, whole.

© DAR 2012.  All rights reserved. 

Obituary: A Reality Check

Bitter.

That's how I feel about the whole process of publicizing a formal obituary in the newspaper.  It's expensive enough to die and have all the funeral, final expenses and medical bills to settle and then to find out that to publish the obituary that I wrote, in the San Francisco Chronicle would cost about $1400 is just ridiculous.  There certainly is some profiteering going on somewhere in that whole process.  I cant help but wonder of the families stratified socio-economically lower than my own, how do they get by publishing their own obituaries?  Simple.  They don't.

Perhaps these sentiments arise from the fact that I was unable to fundraise the donation amount needed to publish the obituary.  So, I underestimated the task of fundraising the amount to publish.  But in this, I've come to a realization that there are probably a good number of people who have loved ones that aren't publicized in the obituary column– due to lack of funding.  Those that have, they publish.  Those that don't have, like our family, they don't.

I want to re-spell it "o-bitch-uary".  Because that's what it really is.  Shenanigans.  An opportunity to make a buck from the bereaved or the beloved. Sometimes, like in our case, that just isn't possible and it would help that there were places where you can publish an obituary where you can get a square deal.

For the meantime, I haven't totally given up on the idea of having an obituary.  I'm just going to publish it on a free internet site in tribute and memoriam to a great man. My Dad.

My Father's Obituary (Or Lack Thereof)

     For months I've tried to keep this blog up and running consistently, but as my father's primary caregiver and university student, things got a bit overwhelming, to put it lightly. 

     Since my last entry in this blog however, despite my deep intent to document his valiant fight against ALS, my dear father's battle ended peacefully when he passed away on February 6th, 2012 of respiratory failure –a complication of ALS.  The deafening silence of the machines that once were keeping him alive and the gaping hole left where his presence once was leaves me heart broken.  At the same time however, I'm relieved that he is not suffering and in a better place than here.

     Dad died in my arms, his last breath– fleeting before my very eyes. I will retroactively write about the progressions leading up to his passing and the great void that remains in the wake of his passing, once I muster up the strength to regain my center balance.

     Dad wasn't covered by life insurance. The benefits of having had an active policy would have aided us tremendously  for final expenses– I may write about in some other post.  We were, however, fortunate enough to have family members and some friends contribute for the funeral and some outstanding medical expenses.

A Proper Obituary

     When we die, we all want to be remembered fondly, I would dare to imagine.  To have an obituary published however, was a shocking and disheartening process, I found out.  It is so expensive, so impossible to summarize in one sentence, someone as complex as my father.  A one-liner simply could not suffice to describe the very special person that Dad was, and his contributions toward humanitarian causes such as coming to the aid of catastrophe survivors in Latin America with the help of an American Airlines nonprofit he helped found, helping to inspire youth to use their time creatively by dj'ing music and the random acts of kindness he exemplified in his own generosity of giving towards everyday people.
      There's an old saying that rings true to me, which says that "it is more expensive to die than to live".  I'm beginning to believe it because a decent size obituary that I wrote (decent size for me being a writer that is) leaves me  at just around $1500 dollars and so that is my end goal and the purpose of what these funds will be used for.  I simply can't pay for this outright myself right now and so every little bit helps.
     I don't want my father to remain in the ground without a proper obituary.  What child would let this go unchallenged? 

     Your help is greatly appreciated. 

Please, make your donation right now:

Your donation is desperately needed, is greatly appreciated and will help honor a wonderful man who fought hard against ALS. Each donation will be thanked and acknowledged personally.  You will be blessed for your act of giving.