The Day I Prayed for DEATH

“You never know how strong you are, until your only choice is to be strong.”


I read this quote when we lost my Abuela to the debilitating disease of Alzheimers. Amongst other things I read and heard, this one resonated with me. Why? Because this is exactly how I’ve felt and it was the only choice I had. My Abuela was the last parent my dad had. He’s now alone. The two weeks leading up to her passing, I spoke with him daily. I wiped my tears before our phone call to be strong for him… and then wiped them after our call too.

I knew the day would come, but I wasn’t sure when. I told my girlfriends that knew what was happening that every time a text or phone call from my dad came in, I’d be holding my breath. It was inevitable. She lived a long life and her passing, while painful for us all, was also a relief because we knew she was no longer suffering.

Can I share the guilt that I’ve carried for the last month? The night my dad called me to tell me he thought this was it and through his tears asked me to pray for her to pass calmly, I did just that. Hearing my dad, distraught as he was because he was seeing his mom take her last moments, sent me into a tizzy of prayers.  I went to bed doing something I haven’t done in months–I grabbed my rosary and started praying. I prayed over and over for God to please be merciful and relieve her of any suffering she was in. I prayed because she didn’t deserve this pain. I prayed because she lived a long life and I didn’t want any memory she had left that night, for it to be what she endured the past few weeks.

For the past few years, I’ve prayed silently and emotionally for healing. That night I prayed for death.  DEATH. I was really praying for her calm passing. But in my head, I can’t get over it.

In the month after her passing, my family and friends have been so helpful trying to get me out of the rut of depression I felt the days and weeks afterwards. The first two days, I didn’t want to see anyone. I only answered the phone for family and even then, I didn’t for all. I was tired of crying, but I couldn’t stop. It felt as if I stopped crying, then I wasn’t missing or mourning her. My family needed me–my kids needed me, so I put on a brave face and moved on with our days. I filled up our days with activities so that I wouldn’t have to think. It was the best thing for me. When I did feel the need to speak about her, I would send a text to one of my girlfriends whose grandfather had just passed from this as well.

Her funeral was exactly how she would’ve wanted it to be. Full of life, laughter and FAMILY. We celebrated in possibly the most untraditional funeral I’ve ever been to. But that’s how she was. She was ALWAYS the life of the party. We honored her in that same way.

Our family

It’s been a few months now, and I hold the fondest of memories of her and the years we spent together. When I think of her, I now smile instead of getting sad. The rosary that I held the night of her passing–it’s still sitting on my bedside table untouched. One day I’ll move it, but for now, it sits as a lonely reminder of the night I prayed for death.


Patricia Kozack
Patricia Kozack is a professional makeup artist, wife and mom to two kids. Her days are spent wrangling the kids, being a mom taxi, and getting a workout in on the tennis courts. Her weekends are spent beautifying clients for their weddings and events.  She is obsessed with all things beauty related and cannot wait to share her niche of the world with Jacksonville Mom.



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