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Pastimes : Let's Talk About Our Feelings!!! -- Ignore unavailable to you. Want to Upgrade?

To: epicure who wrote (40829)	6/19/1999 2:32:00 AM
From: E	Read Replies (1) \| Respond to of 108807

I was with each of my atheist parents when they died. My mother told me, in her last hours, "Don't worry about dying, it's not so bad." Daddy kept patting my hand and saying, "It's all right, it's all right." They each had said they had no fear of death, and certainly died as though that had been the full truth. They came from not-being, they had a span of life, they returned to not-being. I wish people understood that this is not a terrible thing. It is very dignified. My atheist grandfather's last words were, "The jig is up."

To: epicure who wrote (40829)	6/19/1999 10:54:00 AM
From: nihil	Respond to of 108807

I was with my father hours before he died. He was dying of uremia, a family tradition, after a butchered gastrectomy, and an abcessed liver. He was in very great pain, but they wouldn't give him enough morphine for fear of addiction.(!). His arms were a mass of bloody bruises from the feeding tubes and drips. He had periods of lucidity. We each sat by him and moistened his mouth and lips with ice. Each of us took four hour shifts. It was 3 AM in the morning when he talked last to me. We had argued philosophy and theology all our lives together. We knew each others beliefs in detail. There was nothing left to say about life or the truth. He asked me if I believed there was anything left of life after death. I told him that I believed that only memories remained after one died. I told him I would remember him with love everyday of my life on first waking in the morning. He said "and when you die I will be truly dead?" "I said yes." He said "That's what I believe." Then he fell quietly asleep. A smile on his lips. My brother came to relieve me. I went home, knowing I would never see my father again. I went to bed in my parent's rented apartment. He was too poor ever to have bought a home. A phone screamed in the hall and all of us rushed into the hall. My mother went first and fainted, later claiming she had seen a shrouded figure. I answered the phone. It was my brother, but I didn't need to hear his message. My father had died from a sudden heart attack. (SDS). On awaking, every morning, I think first of him. The finest, truest man I ever knew.