On his deathbed, my father in his much-weakened voice, reiterated that he believed in quality, not quantity of life. He told us that he had gotten up for the first time in a couple of days to go to the bathroom. He said he could not believe what the bathroom mirror shared with him. He said because of his frailty he could no longer look at himself in the mirror because he looked too much like he did the day he was released from Dachau’s Concentration Camp in 1945. He begged God to take him one way or another.
Diana Raab, Ph.D. is an award-winning memoirist, poet, blogger, essayist, and speaker. Her book, Writing for Bliss: A Seven-Step Plan for Telling Your Story and Transforming Your Life is forthcoming in 2017. She’s a regular blogger for Psychology Today, The Huffington Post, and PsychAlive.
2 thoughts on “Honoring My Father”
Reading this, as a person surrounded at the moment by people approaching death, was a refreshing encounter with the truth. Thank you, Diana.
A strong man. I could see how there could be a terrifying resemblence. He went through so much in those camps, that he survived, what a miracle. I would never want to see myself look that way either. Great piece, touching and tragic, and in a certain way quite awful. Written well.