The Poetry in Sorrow

My last post was written with a heavy heart and so is this one unfortunately.  The day after my Aunt Elizabeth died, my Dad followed her to Heaven.  It's a sad story but there's a certain poetry to it that I have to share.

My dad and his sister were very close.  They were the last 2 surviving siblings of the Holder 10.  My dad never wanted to be the "last one left."  Honestly no one thought he would be.  He had been diagnosed with lung cancer a while back and my aunt was healthy and on the go all the time.  We joked that she would probably out live us all.  When she didn't, it came as a shock to us all.  My dad was understandably upset.  They talked or saw each other pretty much every day.  He kept saying he was "the last one left."  We were all worried about how he would take losing his only remaining sibling and what toll it would take on his health. 

That night he ate a good supper and sat around the table with my oldest brother and his son (my oldest nephew) and reminisced about my aunt.  They talked and laughed remembering times gone by.  He got up the next morning, January 19th, and told my brother he had a sore throat.  That was his only complaint.  So my brother went to the pharmacy, talked to pharmacist about the best remedy, got him some lozenges.  He drank his chocolate milk, just like every morning, and went back to his room to read the paper.  My brother had planned on going to buy a new suit for my aunt's funeral service that morning but wound up not leaving as early as he had planned.  When he and his wife were ready to go, about 20 minutes after my dad went to his room to read, he walked back to tell my dad they were leaving.  He thought Dad was asleep at first.  When he didn't answer, my brother shook him a little.  When he still didn't respond, my brother yelled for my sister-in-law knowing something was wrong.  Where's the poetry in this?  My dad was sitting there peacefully in his chair with the day's newspaper laying in his lap.  It was opened to my aunt's obituary.  That's what he was reading when his heart gave out.  We believe he truly died of a broken heart. 

My family suffered the unthinkable - 2 deaths, 2 visitations, and 2 funerals within 5 days.  It was difficult and tiring, but we took comfort in knowing that my aunt and my dad were greeted by so many loved ones we had lost before - my mom, their parents and siblings, extended family and so many friends.  We laughed at the thought of my aunt getting all settled in in Heaven and then turning around and seeing my dad and promptly asking him what he was doing there.  My answer to that is he was right where he wanted to be.  Even in sorrow, life is poetic sometimes.