My father-in-law was dying. He’d had five years of remission from esophageal cancer, but the latest recurrence hadn’t responded to treatment. As he neared the end, he and his family decided to move him from the custom-built contemporary home he’d designed to a privately run hospice, just over a mile from his home.
I had taken some time away from work to support my husband, his father, and the family during those last days. My main jobs were to run support and errands as needed so the family could stay at his bedside.
At one point, he reverted to speaking Italian, his mother tongue and the language of his immigrant parents. As he rasped out “Granita,” his family was confused by what he wanted. They asked me to come and listen, and somehow I figured out he was asking for ice. Once we got him some ice to soothe his throat, he settled down.
Raised Roman Catholic, he’d attended church regularly with his family when his children were young. According to my mother-in-law, he’d become agnostic over the course of his life, attending mass only on occasional holidays—despite his wife urging, “Can’t you just believe, in case it’s all true?”
As he lay dying, his faith traditions, just like his facility with Italian, came back. He had asked his sister for a special religious medal his mother had owned. The parish priest had come to his home to administer the sacrament of the sick just before he moved to hospice.
Later, at the hospice, he asked for holy water. I had thought that one of us could bless water for him and use it to bless him, and when we called the parish priest, he told us the same. My father-in-law wasn’t impressed. “I want the real thing. You need to go to the church and get me some real holy water.” My ever-practical mother-in-law said, “Just bless some tap water and we can give it to him.” I knew that was true, and yet it seemed not in keeping with his wishes. As the errand person, I offered to get some from church.
Fortunately, the church was open and I was able to collect some holy water from the dispenser. My father-in-law seemed genuinely grateful when family members brought him the water for a blessing. Getting genuine holy water was the least I could do.
Colleen T. Fogarty
Rochester, New York
2 thoughts on “Holy Water”
hi Nancy, thank you for your kind words. I’ve also seen this in other family members and patient care. Often times it’s very jarring or shocking to other loved ones even though it tends to signify a moving back towards comforting practices. Thank you.
Colleen, I’ve seen similar situations like your father-in-law’s in my work: the urgency to return to familiar rituals with or without the accompanying beliefs can still be very comforting to the dying. You did a good deed bringing him exactly what he wanted. His peace of mind was your gift to him. Brava!