Issue link: https://tmcpulse.uberflip.com/i/845136
t m c » p u l s e | j u ly 2 0 1 7 25 "We've had a few very long and, to me, very rewarding conversations, just about your life and your journey," Father Raphael said, leaning over Alan's bedside. "We also talked about, in your own faith journey, how open you always tried to be to other people. And that when the moment came, you wouldn't be averse to me praying with you and offering the consolation of the sacraments that I can offer to you. I hope that's still the case, Alan. I thought I just saw you nod, but in any case, I would like to pray with you, Alan. May I pray with you, as we agreed, Alan?" "Absolutely, Father," Brad said. "Definitely, he's OK with that." "He did let you know about that?" "Yes, sir. I know he's OK with that." Brad grasped Alan's hand. "In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit," Father Raphael began. He spoke in smooth, soft rhythms, reading scripture and offering prayer. He asked Brad to help him with the rite of anointing. Brad placed his right thumb into an oil stock prepared with cassia, aloe and myrrh and traced the sign of the cross on his father's head. During the prayer, Alan mustered the strength to squeeze Brad's hand. — IX — Karen arrived not long after Father Raphael said goodbye. "He's making a lot of noises," she said. "Have you felt like he's been anxious because of his breathing? Any distress? Because what I'm seeing looks very peaceful." "I think he's at tremendous peace," Brad said. "It makes me feel glad, because he knows that he's here, he's around love." Karen took Alan's feet in her hands, checking for warmth. They were cracked and stiff and one was very cold. She explained that it was the body's way of fighting for life, that it was doing all it could to shunt blood to the core. Grace and Matthew insisted on spending the night. After dinner, the three of them piled onto the air mattress and watched a "Tom and Jerry" cartoon. Brad and Grace took turns get- ting up to check on Alan. Around 1:30 a.m., Brad woke suddenly, drenched in sweat. He slid off the air mattress and quietly opened the door to the bedroom, listening for his father's labored breaths. The silence was deafening. "Grace!" he whispered as loudly as he could. He did not want to wake Matthew. He flipped on the light and saw that Alan's dentures had popped out of his mouth. Both he and Grace checked for a pulse. Nothing. Unsure, they called Houston Hospice and left a message with the answering service. Then, in a panic, Brad pushed Alan's medical alert button. Soon the tiny apartment swarmed with flash- ing lights, paramedics and police officers. Carol arrived to take Grace and Matthew home. When the first responders learned that Alan had signed a DNR and was under hospice care, all but one officer left until an on-call nurse from Houston Hospice arrived to declare the time of death. By dawn, a caretaker from the funeral home would wheel Alan's body out of the apartment and down the uneven sidewalks. While Brad waited, he called his best friend. "You know what your dad would do right now." "Get bombed," Brad said, smiling. "You know, I think I could handle that." He went to the freezer and pulled out Alan's handle of Jim Beam. He drew a few swigs from the bottle, then stood in the kitchen and cried. Brad scatters Alan's ashes in the water off Galveston Island, per Alan's request. Brad cleans the apartment moments after the caretaker leaves as a way of coping with his father's death.