My Father's Last Words
I won't get into the medical details surrounding my father's death, but it did involve hospice care, ensuring he passed away at home surrounded by his closest friends and family. While he didn't utter many words to me during his final weeks, I considered this a good sign as he spent a lot of time dispensing final tidbits of advice to my ne'er-do-well brothers and a few friends he felt could have done better with their lives. The last few days saw him in a near comatose state, only occasionally uttering a phrase or two to whoever he recognized by his bed.

On what turned out to be his last day of life, the local Episcopalian priest visited to give a blessing and last rites to one of her dearly beloved parishioners and patrons. While the priest was herself well loved in the community, it was known that her later morning Sunday sermons could extend well beyond the normally scheduled hours, and the less patient would attend the early morning service as that guaranteed a set exit time. My father was among those who attended the early service, although to accomodate my late morning schedule, he would endure the extended services when I was visiting the islands and sleeping late.

As her soft voice filled the alcove, I realized the priest was going into "extended sermon mode". After an interminable interval, my father levered himself upright, looked her straight in the face and said:

"SHUT THE HELL UP!"

He immediately collapsed back onto the bed and resumed his slow breathing.

The silence which accompanied this utterance was nearly absolute, broken only by my father's continued breathing and the faint sound of the remote air conditioner. The priest was clearly discomfited by the incident, and not knowing precisely what to do, reached down to pat one of my father's dachshunds who had taking up station sitting close by her feet. The dog softly growled at her, which prompted my mother to defuse the situation.

"Thank you very much: that was wonderful."

Knowing she was being given a way out, the priest softly said, "thank you: I think I should go now." I accompanied her to the door and attempted to comfort her by saying, "he loved helping the parish - but he was never very patient." The priest quietly replied, "he always did prefer the early service."

Several hours later, my father breathed his last, with my mother and myself sitting next to him. 2 days later, a service was held at the tiny church he loved. The same priest gave the eulogy, and everyone was astonished at its brevity.
( Felis Concolor, Sun 15 May 2011, 19:02, 4 replies)

Imma clickin dis.

( Amorous Badger NAKED BEA ARTHUR PHOTOS 4U, Sun 15 May 2011, 19:07, closed)

I Like This

( Ring Of Fire A petty, drooling belming butthurt retard., Sun 15 May 2011, 19:24, closed)

i also be giving this a furious clicking
the language makes it that little bit special
(Ross McBingobangobongo bingobangobongo, Mon 16 May 2011, 13:23, closed)

Made up story is made up story
A female priest? What do you take us for.
(TheManWithThePlan cussed your mum on, Tue 17 May 2011, 13:44, closed)