Death of Aunt Pat
Parish Diary
Fr. Peter Daly
February 21, 2008
My aunt Pat died recently. She was a few days short of
her 91st birthday.
A lot can be said about her long and satisfying life, but
it is her dying that I want to focus on. Her death reminds us of how important
the presence the Church can be in our living and dying.
The first thing to note about her death is that she was
fortunate to be visited by a priest. I anointed her twice. It helps to have a
priest in the family.
Two days before Aunt Pat died I got a call from my cousin
Mike. He asked me to go anoint his mother and pray with her. In the phrase of
my generation, he asked me to “give her the Last Rites.”
Today it is nearly impossible to be sure that every
Catholic is seen by a priest. There just aren’t enough priests. In some dioceses
in the
The second thing to note is that people wait too long to call
the priest. Often they wait until the person is unconscious or even dead.
Sacraments are for the living, not the dead.
The “Last Rites” include confession, communion and the
anointing of the sick. Two of these “rites” require consciousness. I was glad
that my aunt was still able to appreciate what we were doing. While she could
not swallow, at least we could touch the Eucharist to her tongue.
She was also able to pray along with us. When we made the
sign of the cross, she followed. She joined hands and said the Lord’s Prayer
with us. She held out her hands for the sacrament of the sick. She knew she was
dying. She accepted it stoically, but she wanted the sacraments.
The third thing about my Aunt’s death is that she was
surrounded by those who love her as she went to God. Often this is not the
case.
I was also glad that we had enough notice to allow me time
to pick up Aunt Pat’s sister, my mother.
Mom is nearly 88. These two old women needed to see each other before
death separated them. After all they had 9 decades of shared life. Only they
could bring and receive the comfort of a lifetime to each other.
Catholics pray to
Often people die alone. Recently I was called to the bed
of a woman in a nursing home. She was alone. No family members visited her. She
spoke only Polish. The staff told me that she was non-communicative. But I
suspected that she was dehydrated. So I took a straw and put a few drops on her
tongue. She moved. I put more drops on her tongue. She swallowed. Then she spoke
weakly.
I started the prayers. She made the sign of the cross.
She was not non-communicative. She was ignored.
It is a great comfort to be recognized as a person when
we are dying. We have a history. We have a faith. It should be honored, so as
many as possible can die a happy death.