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I wanted to be death positive. I really did. Denial helped no one. But this was entirely too premature. I’d sat beside enough dying people to know we weren’t at this step in the process. He might have decided to stop curative treatment, but some people lived years on hospice.
He wasn’t ready for this conversation.
Whatever. If he wanted to do this now, so be it.
“Alright Jim. I’ll bite. What do you want us to do?” I humored him. “Let’s create a ritual.”
“Ritual?”
“An action we take, or a sense we evoke. Something wedoimmediately following the last breath.”
“My last breath?”
“Yes. We can play a favorite song, or sing one, we could light a candle beforehand, and extinguish it.”
“At the moment of my death?”
“If that’s what you and your family decide.”
Jim smiled at me. “You’remy family, sweetheart. Don’t exclude yourself. And don’t treat me like a regular client. I’m your father-in-law. I’m just as sad to be walking away from you as I am from Gus.”
My sinuses grew hot and tight. Tears pooled in my eyes.
Oh, God. How was I supposed to continue with this if he was already making me cry?
He rested his chin on his hand and stared thoughtfully at the TV.
“No. I don’t think we’ll have to do any of that. We work in deathcare. There are already rituals around the jobs we do. Jobs I’ve taught them. If they do what they know, that’ll be what gets them through.”
“That’s a beautiful way to look at it. This may be hard, but can you take some space and envision the minutes, the hours immediately after your passing… your death… however you want to refer to it… and tell me what you’d like to see?”
“I don’t have to think about it. Soula will call the time of death.” His eyes sparkled as he considered his daughter. “She’ll want that moment of certainty. To know the exact instant when I’m no longer here.”
Here in this body.
“Gus will say the right prayers. Chant the right chants. Bless my body.”
I nodded, unable to speak.
God, this was hard.
Jim covered my hand with his. I was unused to a father’s love, but I willed myself to accept it.
His hands didn’t havethe lookyet. The thinning, almost to nothing, and yellowing of the tissue. His nails were light and clear.His hand was dry, but still soft, with a decent amount of tensile strength left. We had time.
Iwas supposed to be the one comfortinghim. Not the other way around. I was supposed to be helping him welcome his non-impending death. Instead, he’d already made peace with it. He didn’t need me at all.
I took a deep breath and focused on the job. It might be a farce, planning his death at this early stage, but it would benefit us both by taking it seriously. I thought about the moment of his passing. How it would feel the moment he was no longer the heartbeat of this mortuary. It would be too much. For all of us. The sweet kind of sadness that could only come from leading a joy-filled life. I wished everyone could pass that way. Surrounded by love and acceptance.
Soula, Gus, George, Raynie—they’d hate it. They wouldn’t want to remember his death. They’d see it as a betrayal of the years they should have had with him. But Jim and I were doing important work, laying the foundation for what may be one of their most precious memories. One day, they’d take this moment out of a box and project it like a film reel. They’d see the togetherness, the choreography. They’d feel his spirit still with them—having only fallen asleep on this plane. They’d know how much they were loved.
I let the tears leak out, making no move to hide them or wipe them away.
“Now stop crying and listen to me. This is important and it’s something only you can do.”
“What is?”
“Holding this family—yourfamily—together.“ He looked at me. “I don’t know what your reasons were for marrying my son, but we’re all better off with you. And everyone will need you after I’m gone.”
