4 Journal of Aging Research Pauline suggested that the meaning of Joseph Sr.’s life and death centers in their home; the house itself symbolizes his attributes, such as physical strength and protection. But the meaning of the home has changed for Pauline. She commented, “My father had a strong physical presence. It’s gone out of the house. It’s cold in here.” Joseph Jr. agreed with Pauline that the family “came together” at the end of his father’s life. He attributed his strength and the family’s solidarity to prayer. To his family, Joseph Sr. was literally “larger than life.” Although Joseph Jr. believes that his father loved his children equally, his father was especially proud of the authoritative positions Joseph Jr. held in the corporate world. “It was important to my father that we stay together and that I take care of the family. I take this seriously.” Joseph Jr. described himself as the family member that others turn to. When asked who supplied support when he was grieving, he replied evenly: We all ran into the kitchen that day in February. But I knew his time had come, and I felt thankful because it looked like he went to sleep. And I knelt down and kissed him, and held his hand and told him how much I loved him. The Lord granted my wish—I was able to accept it because I knew his time had come. Similarly to the way Pauline described her father as “tired,” Joseph Jr.’s phrase, “his time had come” suggests that his perceived readiness erased visions of Joseph Sr. ﬁghting death. All family members, however, believe that Joseph Sr. was afraid of dying. Joseph Jr. also feared his father’s death, but for reasons diﬀerent from Pauline’s. His death was something I feared for the last ﬁve years. He was failing physically. I prayed for the Lord to give me strength to bear God’s will. A few days before he died, my father said, “I’m not going to any more doctors or any hospitals.” When we went to bed, he would always say, “See you tomorrow.” He did not say it Friday night. But we all kissed him, as was our tradition. He had a feeling his time was coming. It was a bitter-sweet experience. Bitter because we lost our father and the center of our family. But sweet in that it was a ﬁtting end for a good man. In fact, Saint Joseph, as you might know, is the patron saint of a happy death. One meaning that Joseph Jr. found in his father’s life and death was to emulate him, despite believing he would never reach his father’s stature. I wish I had my father’s physical capabilities, his personal courage and fortitude. He was fearless. If somebody threatened us, he was like a raging lion. And just to be good the way he is. But I just do not have that innocent goodness he had. Interviewer: What do you mean by innocent goodness? Joseph, Jr.: It’s that he did not really hate people. . . with the exception of one cousin who disrespected my mother. But he would not talk ill of people. And he would take great joy in a nice tomato in the yard, or after he ﬁnished doing some concrete work. But as I’ve gotten older I’m doing better at it. He was physically very strong. His little ﬁnger was the size of my thumb. I told you I prayed to have strength to accept this when it came. We bonded together in an hour of pain. They all look to me now. Not that I could take my father’s place, but if push comes to shove, I’m the one they come to. I see the loss of my father had its toll on my mother. My brother and sister have enough to contend with their own lives. So grieving is a luxury I cannot aﬀord. Joseph Jr. said that the family is “diﬀerent now. What’s missing in the family is this sense of a rock. Now that he’s gone, we’re not the same, we’re less.” This statement describes the family’s sense of depletion. Frances, Joseph Sr.’s widow, believes “it’s a lie” when someone says they are prepared for a loved one’s death. She always told her husband, “You can die one day after me; not before.” Because “it was diﬃcult to see my superman failing” and she knew he was afraid of death, the couple never discussed this subject. He aged magniﬁcently. He never looked ill, he just got even better looking. The nurses that came here would say that to me. He was a superman; he looked like a superman. A few days before death, he became just a shell of a person. Frances said that she found meaning in her husband’s death by participating in our research. “We’re not educated for death and we should be.” She regrets that they did not talk about death but she knew he was “unable.” She laments that she did not “assure him that I loved him just as much as he loved me,” and hopes he was unaware of how impatient she felt at times. In the last year he’d go in the shower but he could not do it by himself. I would go in with him and bathe him. I would help him on with his clothes; I would cream his face. And he would just look at me and say, “I cannot believe you have to do this.” I’d say, “Joe, if the shoe was on the other foot, you’d do this and more, too.” He was astounded by how much I did for him without him asking. She found another meaning in her husband’s death. He loved me so much; he adored me. A highlight of his life was when I decided to go out with him, when we were engaged, when we got married, and when we had children. I realized after he died that I loved him as much as he loved me.