It has been a hard week. The day after my last journal, Rod began to sleep more and more, and his ability to communicate became less and less. We had the priest come on Wednesday to give Rod an anointing and final communion. He was able to respond to the prayers with an “Amen” and took communion eagerly but remained mostly subdued and sleeping that day.

The next day, Thursday, he stopped being able to speak at all. He would react when we administered medication or moved him, but no longer spoke or mumbled. He slept almost all day and we knew his time was drawing nearer. Alex and I said a rosary of the Glorious Mysteries with Rod that afternoon and he attempted to follow along clutching the Knights of Columbus rosary Tedd had gotten him for Christmas and trying to lift his hand for the sign of the cross. He especially seemed to enjoy praying for the Desire for Heaven and the Grace of Final Perseverance, two of the last mysteries of the rosary.

One of the Glorious Mysteries is the Ascension of Christ into heaven. After His resurrection, Jesus spent 40 more days on Earth with his apostles and mother Mary. After some reflection and brute math, Alex realized that we had 40 more good days with Rod after he came home from Houston, where doctors were shocked he even made it out of the ICU alive. 40 days to love one another, 40 days to spend time together, and 40 days to do what normally, we would get to in a lifetime.

Thursday evening, all of us gathered to spend our final moments as a family all together. Rod’s breathing had become more shallow and uneven, Nick had been diligently monitoring his oxygen levels and steadily raising the output on the machine to keep him oxygenated. We each had a moment alone to say a few words, some expressing cherished memories, some offering thanks, others simply not knowing what to say. We firmly believe Rod could hear us as we spoke our final words to him.

Sam and his Fiancée, Angel, were able to be home during this time. And after getting the news, Dylan (Alex’s husband) was able to get off work early and come home to be with the rest of us as we gathered in prayer together. We said a rosary of the Sorrowful Mysteries, offering up our suffering and Rod’s to God. Ethan said it best when he said, “I am sad… I know that God wants him in heaven, but I want him here.” After the rosary was over, each of our children slowly said goodbye and went to bed, and in the end, it was just Rod and me.

I had been wanting to crawl into his hospital bed next to him for weeks, but it was just too small, and I feared it would be too painful for him. At that moment it dawned on me to just drag the couch up to his hospital bed to lay next to him. It turned out to be the perfect height- allowing me to hold and hug him as much as his drains and tender skin would allow. I talked about our love and wonderful children. He opened his eyes a few times as I lied and told him I would be ok. I played his favorite songs, such as Simple Man, and my playlist of songs I felt described my love for him. I put his wished-for sounds of rain falling and ocean waves from videos on the TV, as we spent what would be our final night together. I read Rod all of the cards I had gotten for him over the past year. He had stubbornly chosen to not open or read any of them

until he got me mine in return. Hospital stays, ER trips, and illness had plagued our year, and kept him from something he loved to do for me. Every holiday or anniversary, I would wake up to a card and flowers. After I read through my cards to him, I found some drone destination videos to watch and we finally went on all those trips we had been putting off. All the places that he wanted to show me- the coast of Greece, Italy and Rome, the shores of Maui; we flew around the world in one night.

Early the next morning, Friday, January 6, 2023, on the Epiphany of our Lord Jesus Christ, I noticed Rod’s breathing was dangerously slow and his heart rate was dropping fast. I called for everyone to come down and be present in what were to be his final moments.

He is free from sickness. He is free from pain. He is able to walk and run and be rid of all the tubes and drains that robbed him of his wellness in life. His soul is with the Lord, and we are thankful for his peace. We thank God for the blessing of these final moments together and we pray that Mary throw her mantle over us and cover us in her motherly love. May all the Angels and Saints in Heaven greet him, as he makes his final voyage home.

“The world is thy ship, and not thy home.” - St. Therese Lisieux