Weeks of January 7-28, 2013
Has Passed Away
Thank you so much for your prayers and support over the
past years and months.
Monica died peacefully at home
on Sunday evening, January 6.
doctors had said might be the case, her condition
suddenly took a sharp turn for the worse and quickly (in
only eight days) she was gone. She died at home, in our
Services will be at Blessed Sacrament Church, Seattle. (Our
parish.) Rosary, Monday, Jan. 14, 7 pm. Funeral
Mass, Tuesday, Jan. 15, 11 am.
(The family suggests that in lieu of flowers, donations
be made to the Friends of St. John the Caregiver, P.O.
Box 320, Mountlake Terrace, WA 98043.)
The celebrant will be my brother Mike. He brought her
Communion and anointed her on New Year’s day. The kids
and I were there.
The children, grandchildren, extended family, and I are
doing okay. We’re blessed to have each other.
And, needless to say, we were blessed to have had
Monica. She did her best to prepare us, even as she
knew no one can ever be fully prepared.
She wasn’t afraid of dying and, while not wanting to
leave us, was ready to move on.
During her final week
I kept her mom and siblings informed with an e-mail each
afternoon and I included some of the prayers and
thoughts she had written in her iPad during 2012. I want
to share a couple of them with you.
This is from “My Prayers,” written in late June:
time comes and I slip away from this life, please be
sure that my family knows that they are loved ... by
both of us, You and me.
This is from what Monica wrote in late May. It’s the end
of a piece titled “What will heaven be like?”:
Everyone can see, even short people.
I'll see the Blessed Mother. Her face will be so
She'll have a great big smile on her face not the plain one we see
pictured. I think she'll clap her hands and run to see
me and then she'll say, "That's my Son." And then we'll
A few hours before
she died I came across a notebook Monica had been
writing in for the last couple of weeks. This is the
last prayer in it:
Your arms around me — help me cross over. Will we
jump together — laughing, smiling, knowing all will
two were a little earlier in the notebook, one right
after the other:
I love my dear
family. It’s hard to leave but I know all will be
Buggers . . . what more
can I say!
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