I have been dreading writing this post.
As you can tell, I lost my Dad, Anton (Tony) Patrick Morin, on February 7th at the age of 81 years, 6 months, and a day. His obituary can be seen here.
I am Mark A. Morin. The A is for Anton. I have his name. Dad was a proud Air Force veteran. His obituary has a lot of that information. I guess this post is my way of breathing – and finding peace.
Dad declined quickly. He was sent by ambulance to the hospital on Thursday, January 30th after he fell and had a mental break during which he was confused and yelling and just out of it. He had resumed a degree of normalcy (such as it was) by the time I saw him that morning/afternoon in the hospital. It appeared that he might have had a mass on his lung, but no explanation for the cognitive issues. We did not know what was going on medically, and still do not (he had a lot of health issues). My Mom was exhausted physically and emotionally, so I sent her home and I stayed with Dad. He was in pain, but we did get to have some conversations. He prayed aloud in pain and was worried about his soul and Heaven. His own Dad abandoned him in the 40’s – and was absent in his life. I got to tell my Dad that I wished that he had had a great Dad like I had. And despite his pain, he smiled.
I knew he was dying, but one never knows how soon. Ten years ago, he nearly died (he was hospitalized for months). Thank God he lived another ten years. This time, I waited until my Mom left and asked the nurses to get him a priest. Father Jose came later around 7 PM and Dad was finally asleep. He began to pray over him and Dad gently woke up. Dad spoke with Fr. Jose and even in Spanish a bit (Dad was a multi-lingual guy). He gave him The Last Rites and I got to pray The Our Father with my Dad. He then went to sleep, and I left.
The next day (Friday February 1st) he was scheduled for a lot of tests so I did not go to see him. I went Saturday morning and by then pretty much his mind was gone. He could not communicate in any effective way and was totally confused. His mental state never got any better from then on, and the cause of his condition remained a mystery.
Six days later, at 2:15 AM on Friday, February 7th, my Mom called to tell me that the hospital had called her to tell her that it would not be long. We got to the hospital, and he was unconscious, on oxygen, but struggling to breathe. His family was with him. He was given some morphine for comfort, the oxygen mask was removed, and I held his hand as he took his last breath.
His funeral was at St. Camillus, our old family parish in Fitchburg, MA, on February 15th. I got to speak and give a remembrance of Dad. I was honored to do so and share what my Dad meant to me – about his Work Ethic, his love for his family, and his Faith. It’s tough now, for sure.
However, I have Faith, the greatest gift he and my Mom ever gave to me. I feel especially blessed that I got to pray with him the last time he could with me.
I will go on to blogging about the significantly less important aspects of life, but I felt that I needed to have a blog entry about Dad before I moved on. I also held back posting from late January onward as all this was going on. Dad loved history and loved seeing my miniatures, especially the tanks. We all lose our Dads someday, and our worlds get smaller as a result. But I believe Dad has earned his Eternal Reward and we will be together again someday.
I am not looking for pity – just needed to put this down in a brief way. Thanks to all who reached out to me and my family – I will never forget your love and your compassion, and your friendship.
Love ya Dad, thanks for everything. I’ll do my best to honor your memory and what you meant to me.