MY FATHER DIED IN ROSE’S HANDS

Mark Ivan Ritter

Genesis 46.30 — Israel said to Joseph, “I will die this time, since I have seen your face, that you are still alive.”  

I never met my father’s mother Rose, my grandmother. My grandmother died when Dad was 18. My first name Robert, was named after her. (My middle Hebrew name Jonah is after my mother’s grandfather Joseph.)I always wished I could have talked to Rose. If only to hear her voice.

This morning I woke up very early thinking about my father. I put on my headphones and started to listen to Shabbat worship songs from Central Synagogue. They were singing Hashkiveinu, which I love, but I didn’t like the version they were doing so I forwarded to the next worship song, the Shema.

During the Shema I had some deep thoughts about Adonia, and the complexity of “Oneness.” Then the phone rang.

I have to digress. Yesterday afternoon I booked a flight to go back to see my father again. He is in the crisis stage, but he is holding on. I thought it might help to be with him and reassure him with prayers. Now back to the phone call.

The called ID came up, “Maria, Dad’s Aid.” So I knew. It was Maria, Dad’s beloved aid who has cared for him the past two years. She and I have grown close. She is a strong believer. Maria didn’t say hello. She simply said, “He didn’t wait for you.” I was speechless.  So Maria handed the phone to the Hospice crisis nurse.

The Hospice nurse said, “Robert, this is Rose.”

I said, “Rose?

Yes,” she said.

I said “Rose, that is my father’s mother’s name.

Rose seemed to understand my reaction.

I thought to myself that Rose’s voice was so sweet and tender.  

Rose said, “Your father passed at 3:48am. 

Then Rose told me she was washing him and telling him it would be alright. This was the start of the 4th day that Dad has been asleep with no food or water. But we know he is listening. I started to imagine what my father was thinking; when the nurse arrived for the evening shift and said to Dad, “Mark, my name is Rose; I will be taking care of you tonight.” And, when she was using a warm towel to clean him like a mother wipes off a baby.  I wonder if Dad thought he was in his mother Rose’s hands?

Rose said, “Your father did a small cough, and then he just stopped breathing.” He died so fast. He was very peaceful. Your father was very peaceful.”

Very Peaceful. Perfect peace. Shalom Shalom.

Rose handed the phone back to Maria. Who shared a priceless message about the last night with Dad.

Rest in peace Dad. Your name is for a blessing. Amen.

Obituary

Disclaimer: This blog is a space for ongoing theological reflection and study. The ideas, interpretations, and structure are my own, developed through personal research and meditation. I draw from a wide range of sources, including Scripture, Jewish tradition, and theological writings. Because these pieces are intended as reflective rather than academic, I do not consistently cite or identify every quotation or influence. The goal is clarity of thought and flow, not formal publication. Readers are encouraged to explore further and engage these writings as a starting point for deeper study.

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