As many requested, my father's funeral services are as such:
Howe-Peterson Funeral Home
22546 Michigan Ave
Dearborn, MI 48124
Phone: (313) 561-1500
Name: Sotero Martinez
Visitation will be Saturday, 11:00 am-5:00 pm,religous services held at 12:00.
Please join us at Las Brisas, Detroit, MI for dinner and mariachi's at 5:00 pm.
My father will then be transported to Mexico City where he will rest in peace.
Thank you for your prayers and kind thoughts.
Thursday, March 13, 2008
Until We Meet Again! (My father's passing)
Tonight, I sit by my dad’s side watching him take what will be his last breaths. His body wrapped in blankets to keep him warm. Now off the respirator as his brain fills with blood, causing the brain to shift. His body unresponsive, his eyes only pupils for us to see. The doctors can’t help. Only able to offer Morphine to ease the pain. It’s only time, maybe an hour, maybe a day…no chance for a week. Only God really knows.
Sonia in one chair, me in another. Maria, Emad, Alicia and Alex (cousins), Mr. Reda (Emad’s dad), Stephanie (his previous caretaker) and my Uncle Michael in route to their homes, probably now in their beds. More than likely not sound asleep. The hospital room full of peace, only the sound of running water from his oxygen and a welcomed snore. A snore that let’s us know he continues to fight.
The nurse repositions him as my eyes fill with tears. I stare at his legs, so thin and weak. I recall him saying his ankles often give, allowing him to fall. The scrapes on his knees reflecting his desire to walk alone, attempts to regain his dignity. A desire to recover. A desire to have strength. All of which seemed within an arms reach, but the arm too short. I think of his life, his smile, his time with his children. The joy his grandchildren brought him, how he loved to be “Abuelo.” I still hear his voice, telling me the story how the girls loved watching him go down the slide, falling on his “bon-bon!” How he was willing to do it again, just to see them laugh, time after time. I think of the time we spent together in Mexico. The same year I met Mike. How humble his life, how humble my life. We rode a bus from Houston to his hometown. He talked of that bus for many years, one would think it was a limo, chauffeured the way. I know it’s time, time for him to rest. But the heart is broken, no mom or dad to sew it together, a stitch that will be missing until my day comes.
I shed more tears thinking of the battles he fought since December, never catching a break. But never giving up. Most of all, never complaining. Happy to know he was out of the hospital for a few weeks but only to return. It was one week today, Sonia and I took him to lunch. He rode in a car, breathing in the outdoor air. All in between a doctor appointment that sent him back to the hospital. Still needing a hand to keep his balance but keeping his pride and holding his head high!
Now approximately 2:35 AM, my father an angel. Patricia now with us as we watched him take his last breaths, very much at peace. Me hand in hand with the strongest man. I pray to God to accept him in his Kingdom, he did well. He loved us all!
Please pray for our family as we set our father free to spread his wings, soaring above us all, an angel in the wind.
My father taught me well, never give up, keep on fighting. A few hours later, I sit in the University of Michigan’s parking lot, awaiting my radiation treatment. We will then begin making funeral arrangements.
Mike and the girls will travel to Michigan tonight.
Sonia in one chair, me in another. Maria, Emad, Alicia and Alex (cousins), Mr. Reda (Emad’s dad), Stephanie (his previous caretaker) and my Uncle Michael in route to their homes, probably now in their beds. More than likely not sound asleep. The hospital room full of peace, only the sound of running water from his oxygen and a welcomed snore. A snore that let’s us know he continues to fight.
The nurse repositions him as my eyes fill with tears. I stare at his legs, so thin and weak. I recall him saying his ankles often give, allowing him to fall. The scrapes on his knees reflecting his desire to walk alone, attempts to regain his dignity. A desire to recover. A desire to have strength. All of which seemed within an arms reach, but the arm too short. I think of his life, his smile, his time with his children. The joy his grandchildren brought him, how he loved to be “Abuelo.” I still hear his voice, telling me the story how the girls loved watching him go down the slide, falling on his “bon-bon!” How he was willing to do it again, just to see them laugh, time after time. I think of the time we spent together in Mexico. The same year I met Mike. How humble his life, how humble my life. We rode a bus from Houston to his hometown. He talked of that bus for many years, one would think it was a limo, chauffeured the way. I know it’s time, time for him to rest. But the heart is broken, no mom or dad to sew it together, a stitch that will be missing until my day comes.
I shed more tears thinking of the battles he fought since December, never catching a break. But never giving up. Most of all, never complaining. Happy to know he was out of the hospital for a few weeks but only to return. It was one week today, Sonia and I took him to lunch. He rode in a car, breathing in the outdoor air. All in between a doctor appointment that sent him back to the hospital. Still needing a hand to keep his balance but keeping his pride and holding his head high!
Now approximately 2:35 AM, my father an angel. Patricia now with us as we watched him take his last breaths, very much at peace. Me hand in hand with the strongest man. I pray to God to accept him in his Kingdom, he did well. He loved us all!
Please pray for our family as we set our father free to spread his wings, soaring above us all, an angel in the wind.
My father taught me well, never give up, keep on fighting. A few hours later, I sit in the University of Michigan’s parking lot, awaiting my radiation treatment. We will then begin making funeral arrangements.
Mike and the girls will travel to Michigan tonight.
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