I Shoulda Been a Stripper

We buried my beloved father today.

As you know, he valiantly fought lung cancer for the last eleven months but unfortunately, he lost the battle. He developed pneumonia last Wednesday and was taken to the hospital. They didn't expect him to survive the night but somehow, he did.

He was a little stronger on Thursday but we knew his prognosis was not good. By Friday morning, he was quickly declining. My father, ever the optimist and never one to complain, stated that he was having a "bad day" which, in itself, revealed the gravity of his condition.

The doctor suggested we transfer him to Hospice House and Dad agreed. He knew that his days were few and he didn't want to take his final breath in a hospital room. His hospice nurse arranged for the transport and Dad, the consummate gentleman to the end, held out his hand to greet the men who would be transporting him.

He passed peacefully the next day, taking his last breath as we all sat vigil at his bedside.

I never pictured the day that I would be choosing the clothes to bury my father in so it was almost surreal to be going through his closet doing just that less than 24 hours later.

The funeral home that we chose is one that we've had experiences with in the past and they're really great to work with. The business was started in the early 1900's by their grandfather in a largely Italian part of Cleveland. In the mid-60's, they moved to a suburb that is highly populated by Italians as well and the family is pretty old school.

As we were meeting with Nick, the phone rang and he excused himself to answer it. He explained that he was the only one there that day so he was going to call his mother to see if she would answer the phone. He was a little anxious that she might be upset because she was in the middle of making meatballs. My father would have been so amused by that.

Further into our consultation, brothers, Anthony Jr. and Dominic came in to express their condolences as well. My mother took no time to find out which of the brothers was single and practically pushed my chair in his direction.

It was Dominic, by the way.

I'm not really sure if she was trying to get me a date or get herself a discount.

Neither one happened.

We bickered over the details and that kept the tears at bay. As we got in the car, she turned to me and said, "You're still going to Weight Watchers when this is over."

You know how my mother is horrified that I've gained 40 pounds. Well, she tricked me into promising my dying father that I would join Weight Watchers and Saturday was to have been my first day.

It's nice to know that the more things change, the more they stay the same.