ACPE Application Essay - "A Helping Incident - My Dad"

Helping Incident: Sitting with my father when he was dying from congestive heart failure

Where this took place: My uncles home in Mohnton, PA

During the last year and a half of my father’s life, I was one of his primary caregivers. He was living with my uncle David, and we had the help of my Aunt Jennie who was a CNA, and who would come to help him organize his medications on a weekly basis, but most of his everyday care would fall to me. I was also a lay eucharistic Minister for the Episcopal church that we belonged to, and I would bring him communion on Sunday afternoons and spend some time with him afterward. The day would always unfold in a similar way, and so while I am recounting one particular incident, a similar scene would occur every Sunday. 

I arrived at my father’s house around 1:30 PM with the communion box after church. I went in and sat on the recliner, while he sat on the couch. He was on oxygen full time at this point, and so there was the steady hum of the oxygen generator and the sound of whatever soccer game he happened to be watching that afternoon on the TV. I asked him how he was doing, and he said he was doing pretty good, that my brother had visited him the day before, and that they had a good visit, and that he had just had his lunch - he still would cook for himself regularly, and said he had made himself some chicken, some mashed potatoes and Brussel sprouts, and that it was “just delish!”. He asked me if I would be able to go to the local farm stand and pick him up one of those good sugar-free shoo-fly pies that the Mennonite women there made, and I assured him that I would go later in the week to get this for him. 

I asked him if he was ready for communion and he said yes, and he pulled the small book of common prayer that he kept on the table next to the couch. This is where the ritual that had developed over the past 6 months really would begin. He started by holding up the prayer book, saying “This old prayer book - this was my dads - they issued it to him in the army when he was in the war! - I responded “That is the coolest prayer book so small it can fit into a pocket”. “Yes”, he said “inside the front cover it is handwritten “Issued to Pvt. William Bertram Nally, with his platoon number too”.  I nodded, and said, “That is quite the keepsake”. He also nodded and said, “when I die I want you to keep this prayer book Chappie (that was his nickname for me). It is one of the few things I have that connects me to my dad”. I said I would gladly keep it and treasure it (I did, and still have it!). Next, he started to recount to me the story of his time in the army. He told me that he was a chaplain's assistant and that it was “The BEST Job in the Army, hands down!”. He recounted to me how he had access to a jeep, which most enlisted men did not get, and that he got to drive the Chaplain from one site to another and visit with all the men in the hospitals. He then told me that he really loved that job, and loved working with the chaplain and that it was really rewarding. He expressed some regret that he did not go to seminary and become a chaplain himself, but then also said he was glad his life worked out the way it had because he loved me and my sister so much. 

I then took the prayer book, and we used the bookmarked rite and prayers and he had communion from the lay eucharistic minister’s kit I had brought with me. We ended with the Lord’s Prayer and then relaxed, had some coffee together and I sat and watched the soccer game with him for a while. 

My reflections on this incident are the following:

1. This scenario was pretty much the same scenario that happened every week, it had become a ritual, including the conversation regarding the prayer book, and his time working as a chaplain’s assistant. The story was the same every time, and every time I would hear it, I would pretend that it was the first time I heard it, and make sure my dad knew that I was interested in what he had to say, that I was listening to him, and that I understood that this was a deeply meaningful thing to him, both the story he was telling me, and the context in which he was telling it to me (the receiving of Holy Communion). I did this by affirming what he was saying, asking relevant questions about his time in the army, and in general being an active listener to his story. 

2. I had heard this story repeatedly, and I understood that it comforted my father, and helped to relieve his anxiety about his declining health to have me there, to be able to recount these deeply meaningful spiritual events in his life, and to be able to connect himself to both that time when he felt he was doing truly meaningful work, and to his own ancestor’s and their religious practices (Episcopalianism). No matter how many times my father wanted to repeat this tale, I would let him do so, and provide a listening ear and affirmation. 

3. My other family members really did not understand why Willie would continually tell the same few stories, and they would get frustrated or upset, or try to change the topic, however, I felt that it was helpful for him to be able to recount these things and never tried to stop him from doing this. 

4. At the time I knew that this ritual was important to him, but I didn’t really think about it as a real spiritual practice until I spent time in seminary, and more time reflecting on these visits. And even now, as I sat here writing this reflection, I realized more fully, how meaningful this was to my dad, not just because he liked to drive the army jeep, but because he was doing religious work, and that it was a real source of both pride and a spiritual connection to God that he felt while doing this work. My dad never professed to be a very religious person, however, that this event and time in his life were so important to him, that he made it part of our communion ritual indicates to me that it was truly deeply meaningful to him, and provided him with a great deal of comfort as he was facing increasing sickness.

My father died just a few months after this incident, at home in charge of all his mental faculties, having had a nice dinner of grilled chicken breast, yellow rice, and green beans, and spending the day watching soccer. I had called him earlier that day.  It was Father's Day in 2019, and let him tell me all about his good day, and how much he loved me, and I told him I loved him too (I was out of town at the time so could not be there in person). I am glad that I had the experience of being my father’s caretaker when he was sick, and being able to help him connect to that story of being a chaplain’s assistant. If I had not offered to bring him communion at his home, he may not have reconnected to that story or that time in his life. I think that the reminder of this was really helpful for him spiritually and emotionally as he coped with his illness and impending death.