The Angelus bells tolled and daddy went home...

Larry Vaz - my dad

My dad would often tell me stories of his young days when playtime was outdoors, and roaming the neighborhood was child's play. However it was a rule that whenever the Church bells rang in the evening all children were expected to head home.  Families would then gather together to say the Angelus at six o'clock every evening, and supper would soon follow.  A beautiful Catholic tradition that has lost its way through the generations.

Yes my dad was a devout Catholic. His faith was practiced in kindness, charity and goodwill, and not in the judgement of others.  He always had his family in his heart and mind, and his happiest moments were spent with his family in conversation and laughter. He accepted each of us for who we were and we all sat on a special pedestal in his heart.

Through the years I grew more attached to my father, not at all what I imagined would happen after marriage and children.  But dad was like a light that drew us in.  Shamelessly my husband and children would find ourselves seeking out this light and finding that he would generously brighten up our moments.  Selfishly we yearned for more time with him as his struggle to remain healthy became a loosing battle in his later years.

The year 2016 had us reeling with three hospital stays.  During this time my parents had to leave their home of 43 years to move to a retirement home. The third and final hospital stay came in June.
Through it all the model patient's only request was to know when my husband would be coming to take him home.  Only this time he would be leaving the hospital on his own terms, peacefully as his family laughed, conversed, held his hand, kissed him and shed the occasional tears.

Dad had already witnessed my son Alex's graduation and his marriage, two items he had told me he wanted to  live for.  Last year I had asked dad to set another goal to live for.  Without a second thought my dad answered "Emmy's graduation".  My daughter Emmy had cast a strange spell over my dad since her birth.  Whilst growing up anyone of his children who sat next to dad while watching TV had the job of giving him back scratches - of course this was usually me!  The scratching never ended, and dad would say "over here, to the right, in the middle...", and so on until I made some excuse and he would finally laugh and pull down his undershirt.  When Emmy was born with the same obsession for back scratches it was my dad who would patiently sit beside her fulfilling her endless wishes.

On June 17, 2016, I got a call to take dad straight to the hospital.  It was the same day we were getting ready to attend Emmy's convocation in Guelph.  Dad had managed to check off yet another item on his bucket list - Emmy's graduation. Exactly one week later in dad's hospital room, his loved ones decided to spend the day by his side playing his favorite music, recounting funny stories and re-living heartfelt memories.  My mother, the love of his life tightly held his hand as she sat beside him.  In the very quiet ward and past the closed doors of his private room, nurses and passers-by could hear laughter and conversation.
Late that evening daddy quietly left us a few minutes before 6 pm.   At that moment I would remember his childhood stories, and know instantly that our playtime was over.  Dad had heard the Angelus bells toll and gone home to rest in peace.