Commentary: Mooney's Class

Antelope Valley Press

Edward Mooney, Jr.

June 20, 2005

Title: How To Say Goodbye

I visited my father's grave recently. It's hard to believe that two Father’s Days have passed since he left us. The sting of his death has diminished, but there’s still a gnawing ache inside. I feel peace, though. From the moment I realized the end was coming I made a commitment to put him first then, and I will not regret it later. This proved to be prophetic.

I believe it's our duty to share with others about what we've learned. I hope it's a long time before you need this list.

How To Say Goodbye

Take the time. Think about it - all the years that I knew my Dad boiled down to a few weeks; what was the harm in sitting with him for a few days? Because I spent that time, I caught some of the most caring and insightful words from him that I ever heard. Bring a book to read or a notebook to jot your thoughts down.

Make the calls. When I couldn’t be in Arizona I called. My stepmother would arrange whenever it was best for my Dad. Once I called at 2:00 in the morning. He was quite lucid then. No, they weren’t deep, meaningful calls, but I would pay to hear his voice now.

Speak your mind. There are unspoken thoughts in every relationship. If you will not say them when the end is near, are you willing to hold them for the rest of your life?

Forgive. At one point I realized that I had to let go of my Dad. Yes, we have to, just as he let go of me as I learned to ride a two-wheel bicycle many years ago. That was easy compared to letting someone go on his or her deathbed. He desperately needed to know that I forgave him for all the pains of the years we had on this Earth together. I told him so.

Be forgiven. My Dad needed to say that he forgave me, and I needed to hear it. We may believe that the other person sinned against us more, but none of us is perfect. I feel a precious freedom because he told me he held nothing against me.

Touch. The last time I touched him it was in the mortuary; he was cold. I’m thankful that just before he passed away I held my cheek against his for a long time. I can still feel his warmth. We humans (dying and otherwise) need to touch those we love. Do it now.

Cry. Real men cry - phonies hide it. My father cried as I was saying goodbye the final time. I cried, too. It was a powerful moment - I knew he truly loved me, and I believe he knew how much I’d miss him. Whenever he cried during life it was because he truly felt it.

Remember. Talk about the old times together. My father wanted to know that our memories live on.

Talk about death. Hey, it’s happening. As hard as it is, my Dad wanted to deal with it. He admitted he was scared. I hugged him.

Talk about funeral arrangements. I couldn’t believe how relieved he was when he heard I was done with his arrangements. They need to know.

Talk about the will. My Dad wanted to know that it was clear to all who were included in his.

Spend the money. Visiting my Dad cost me lost work time and money. So what? I can never replace his last days with me. The money can be replaced.

Remember the children. They’re not sure how to feel, or how to express what they feel. Show them how.

Take care of yourself. Get rest. Eat right. Take time for fun. Take walks when you need to.

Make the funeral memorable. My Dad asked that we throw balls around after the memorial - right there in the cemetery. It was magical. Allow the survivors to enjoy being together on that day. Go out and eat a meal together.

Finally, don’t worry if you're not sure what to do during the funeral or after; we’re all novices when it comes to dealing with death. Go easy on yourself - those days are hard times. I hope these words help someone.

Thought for the Week: "Life is not lost by dying; life is lost minute by minute, day by dragging day, in all the thousand small uncaring ways." - Stephen Vincent Benet

Edward Mooney, Jr., of Palmdale, is a teacher at Quartz Hill High School and

the author of the novels "The Pearls of the Stone Man" and "The Journey of the

Stone Man".