Raymond Courcy

    I can honestly remember my grandpa’s death like it was yesterday. It started back in October of 2009 when my grandpa was diagnosed with cancer. I can still hear my mom’s voice on the phone when she told me. I broke down and couldn’t stop crying for a good hour straight. Knowing that someone I loved with every piece of heart was going to leave my life forever devastated me. “O Lord, grant each his own, his death indeed, the dying which out of that same life evolves in which he once had meaning, love, and need” ( Enright, 1992). I think this quote says a lot about how people feel about death. For instance, when I first read this quote I automatically though of my grandpa. I thought of how he was the “king” of our family and how truly heartbreaking it was going to be to let him go.
    Four months after my grandpa was diagnosed with cancer he had a stroke and was hospitalized in Stoughton. I remember going to see him for the first time since he had been in the hospital. I can still vividly remember walking down the long hallways and the distinct hospital smell. I remember entering his room and seeing him lying there helpless, connected to tons of wires and tubes. It was so weird to see him in such a state because he was such a strong man. It broke my heart. I visited him everyday for the next month that he was in that hospital.
    On March 25, 2009 Raymond Courcy passed away. That day plays over and over in my mind. I came home from work and my mom was supposed to be at work and I saw her car in the driveway and immediately knew something was wrong.  I proceeded into the house to find her crying on the phone. She hung up and told me the devastating news. I again, broke down. My mother and I waited for my sister and father to get home then went to the hospital where we met the rest of my family. There was my grandpa lifeless on the hospital bed. My family and I gathered around him  as my grandma said the rosary. “How we perceive death affects the way we live, how we live affects the way we die, and how we die gives new meaning to the way others can live” (Kramer, 1988).
    “Religious traditions ritualize the death process to remind us of the impermanence of life, and that whatever lies on the other side of death is as real, if not infinitely more so, than life itself” (Kramer, 1988). My grandpa’s funeral was the absolute hardest thing I have ever had to go through in my life. Seeing my grandma and all of my family members sobbing nonstop was really difficult for me. I remember sitting in the dimly lit room watching everyone wait in line to pay their respects to my grandpa and my family. I cried the entire four hours the wake went on. I also remember a nun I had in pre-school come up to me and tell me how much of an amazing person my grandpa was and how greatly he would be missed. Hearing sister Betty say that made me feel ok for a brief moment.  After all the visitors left I went up to my grandpa’s casket and just knelt there, staring at him. I would of stayed there all night if my father had not of come and got me.
    The next day was the funeral. It was a cold, rainy, and windy March day. For some reason I feel like every funeral I’ve been to has had weather like that. I can picture in my head standing at the cemetery underneath a tent like set up, trying not to cry too loud as the priest spoke. I distinctly remember one of my grandpa’s friends saying that “they will play cards when he gets to heaven with him.” For some strange reason that comforted me.
    As the bagpipes played and all my family just stared at my grandpa’s coffin, I felt the most alone I ever have in my life. The love and respect I had for my grandpa was immense. He was an incredible man and will always be remembered that way. As the ceremony came to an end I took a red carnation and walked over to the coffin and gently placed it on top and told my grandpa how much I truly adored him.
    There is no doubt in my mind that my grandpa is in heaven. He is with God and the angels and everyone from his past that he has loved and cherished. I still talk to my grandpa many days. I tell him how my day was and what is happening with our family, and how much I miss him. I tell him how much I miss him kissing my cheek and me feeling his stubble scratch my face. I will never forget the life lessons my grandpa taught me or the many, many fun times we shared. Rest in peace Raymond Courcy.

References:
Enright, D.J. , (1992). The Oxford Book of Death. Oxford: Oxford University Press.
Kramer, K. , (1988). The Sacred Art of Dying: How World Religions Understand Death. New Jersey: Paulist Press.