So here's the run-down: I'm a 33-year-old woman who lives at home. Until today, I lived with both my father and my mother. My father passed away today at about 12:30 Central time (he was officially pronounced at aproximately 1:45 PM Central).
All the family and friends came over, as well as the parish priest, who prayed over him and helped us send him to the next life. Father Joseph came to the house sometime between 2:30 and 3:00 PM. Things were a little fuzzy and I'm not certain of the time.
We live in Texas, near Houston. We have to fly Daddy up to New York to be buried next to his late first wife. We aren't sure how many people are actually going to attend the viewing and the funeral, and frankly, I don't care. Daddy touched a lot of lives, and I'm content in knowing that a lot of people love him. I don't need a head-count to console me.
My best friend has been coming to visit during the days since my father fell ill. She was with us today - we were expecting him to leave sometime between today and tomorrow. Ironically, Daddy left when she was the only person in the room: Mama had gone out shopping to pick up some supplies we needed, and I was so exhausted I went to lay down in my room. He died while she was with him, the one person of the three of us who could probably handle it the best. She called my mother, who booked home. Mama woke me up, telling me to say goodbye to Daddy and to help her bring in the groceries.
Daddy's passing was very, very peaceful. He was simply sleeping - he's been sleeping non-stop for the last three days or so. Karen (my best friend) was sitting beside him. The hospice nurse had called to find out how he was doing. Karen told her that his breathing was very slow and shallow, but otherwise was regular. They hung up, then his breathing became slower, and slower, and he finally let out one last sigh, and died.
Daddy was diagnosed with colon cancer in February 2006. He had radiation and chemotherapy before surgery to remove the cancer. The surgery was on September 11, 2006. Since then, he'd lived with some pain that we couldn't understand. The doctors still don't know what was causing him so much stomach pain. All I know is he isn't suffering from it now.
Daddy was married to his first wife for about thirteen or fourteen years (I'm not sure of the specifics). He met and married another woman, who committed a series of crimes against him and his family before leaving him. He met and married my mother (whom he has been married to for the last 34 years) while he was still getting separated from the second wife. Although he had the opportunity to get the second marriage annulled, because my father was a little thick-headed, he moved me and my mother to Texas from New Jersey before the annullment could be processed, and that caused him not to get it.
Before he started really getting sick, I studied up on the Catholic faith and talked to my priest. He and Mama decided to live as brother and sister - no sexual relations of any kind what so ever - and Daddy confessed his sins. He was absolved and able to receive Holy Communion the last month or two before he died. About a week ago, he was in the hospital and was given the Annointing of the Sick.
I know this is very haphazard and weird, this little post of mine, but I need to get this stuff out and vent a little. We're all sort of dazed and in shock, alternating between crying fits and confusion and calm periods. This will be our first night without him, and I'm stressing over it.
If anyone wants to, please feel free to pray for the repose of Benjamin Motta. I love him very much and want to wish him well into the next life with Jesus Christ. I'm not sure how to feel or what I feel, except that I just need to tell someone, and this seemed the best way to.
Thank you for reading this.