My Dad Died

Monday began at 5:38 in the morning after 2 1/2 hours of sleep, the phone buzzing on my bedside table, and ended 59 hours later in the ICU with 14 people holding hands and the entire staff of the hospital, where he worked for 36 years, sharing our tears including the young doctor who had to find the pulse we knew was no longer there … everyone loved my dad and he loved them. My Facebook posts about this have been long and not your typical thoughts, but I’m a writer, so I write life.

My dad, on the other hand, lived life. From the little boy who couldn’t start school when he was five because his parents were too poor to buy him shoes to the man who traveled the world exploring every cafe, museum, pub, and architectural wonder he wanted, he lived life at the speed of a leisurely Sunday drive and took everyone he met along for the ride, a glass of wine in one hand and whatever you wanted or needed from him in the other.

I’ve heard people say when someone dies that they leave a hole where they were, but not my dad because he knew he was never alone in his hole. He knew life was not the journey of an individual but rather the journey of everyone we ever meet and keep with us along the way. So instead of a void to fill we have an endless supply of him in everyone that gathers in his name. Memories unite us all and let us feel as if we can reach out and pick up a piece of him whenever we need. And that is what we cling to with his last breath of life.

Be in peace as we all know dad finally is.



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