Death with Dignity

Enough of Tookie Williams! Have we stooped so low that we give top billing to murderers while good, decent people who live honorable lives might get a small obituary in the back of a newspaper? I am offended that this murderer is being held on the same level as Rosa Parks. Hundreds are lining up to view his body. Why? Because he was “redeemed?” How do we know that? He spent the last twenty-years locked in a cell…what else could he do but write children’s books. Would he have been “redeemed” if he had been on probation and out on the street? I think not. Talk about mis-guided reverence.

I’ve thought a great deal about the way my father handled his pending death compared to the way Tookie handled his pending death. I compared the two deaths - while cringing at putting Tookie's name in the same sentence with my fathers.

I thought back to 1996, as my mother, 4 siblings and I stood next to my father’s bedside in Grossmont Hospital in San Diego. The doctor had diagnosed my father with Pancreatic Cancer. The doctor sadly looked at my father and added that he had never seen anyone live more than 8 weeks after the initial diagnosis. My father looked the doctor right in the eyes and said, “Thank you Doctor for all you’ve done.” With that, the doctor walked away leaving the seven of us staring at each other. I will never forget the chill I felt that very moment - my father would be dead within eight weeks.

Dad came home from the hospital later that week and from day one, he had a mission. That mission was to take care of his family. His first task was to get Mom’s driver’s license renewed. Because Dad was too weak to drive, it was our job to make sure that Mom went to the DMV to renew her license. Mom had not taken a written test in many years and learned that she would have to take another. An appointment was made and Mom promptly failed her test. Of course, we told Dad that she passed with flying colors - why bother him with little details when he was fighting for his life.

The second mission was to take care of the funeral arrangements. Dad was insistent that everything be taken care of so that the rest of the family had no worries. He insisted on going with Mom to sign the final papers for the will, cremation, funeral and any other arrangements that needed to be done to make sure that Mom and my twin, who is mentally retarded, were taken care of.

My sister and her husband were retired and came down from Forestville, CA to help Mom take care of Dad during his final weeks. Dad soon became quite ill and was bedridden. For the next six agonizing weeks, my family got together every minute we could. My father never once complained about his life being cut short. His only goal was to make sure that his family was taken care of.

I drove down every weekend from Ventura County to San Diego. I was a divorced mother with 3 children still at home and had to work during the week. Tension began to grow in the family…not because we were fighting, but because we were about to lose the most important man in our lives - a man of principles and integrity. Dad was raised in abject poverty. He lived in the country with eight siblings. He was a working man who eventually became a military man. Dad talked about the real suffering he saw as he traveled the world. Dad was a man who loved his family with a vengence. His eight grandchildren were the love of his life. While some of his siblings broke the law, my father chose not to do so. He respected himself too much.

The night before Dad died is clearly etched in my mind and will be forever. All five of us kids slept in Mom and Dad’s bedroom. Dad was in a hospital bed and my sister and I slept with Mom - all three of us cramped in a double bed. The three boys slept in sleeping bags on the floor around Mom and Dad’s bed. Picture three grown men, if you can, well over 6’5”, sprawled on the floor in a bedroom that was only 10x12. I know my Dad was proud and could feel the love in the room.

Dad’s final moments came around noon the next morning, September 6th,1996, the day after my mother’s birthday. We were all standing next to Dad’s hospital bed. I had some medical experience and knew that Dad was about to leave us so I gently laid my hand on Dad’s chest. I told Dad that we were all together. He need not worry. We would make sure that Mom & my twin would be taken care of. I whispered to Dad that the five of us kids had banded together as a family. Dad moaned with what little breath he had. I then told Dad that I didn’t know if it was true or not, but I heard that there was a bright light and if he wanted to go to it, it was okay. We were all safe now. At that very moment, Dad’s chest rose up for one final breath…and he was gone. My father died with dignity - it was a moment that affected me profoundly. I am proud to have been by my father’s side during his final moments. He taught me to be a proud American, to have respect for my fellow man, to have honor and integrity and fight for what is right.

Mourners can line up by the hundreds to view a murderer who had no regard for lives he took. You will never see me in that line.

Jane LeMOND Alvarez