The rain fell in sheets out the window next to his bed.
"It's so..." my mother began, searching for the word "appropriate."
"Corny?" I supplied. "I know. I already told G-d."
We all laughed until tears came. It was so corny, the rain, on the day my father died.
My brother said viduy and my sister and I sang his favorite passuk--mitzvah gedolah l'hiot b'simcha--it's a big mitzvah to always be happy--as the line that was his heart went flat. His face did not change as he died. Nothing changed. It had just been his heart--as always--that had been keeping him alive.
And it is his heart that we will remember.
And the fact that cliche as it is, as he died, the angels cried.