Pamela
Dad
Today is a year since I last saw you alive. Since I noticed your breathing change, since I saw your breathing had stopped. Since I waited in the parking lot for Dan and seemed like forever but was a short time. We held hands walking down the hall to you and I said "Are you ready?" and Dan said "how can you ever be ready" Somehow I was too calm, my thoughts right now where for Dan, Dan who had been there every minute of everyday for you and me. He was our rock, our voice of reason. And when we walked into your room and he saw you gone my heart shattered into a million pieces for him. It's been a year, but time is a funny thing, it seems like I haven't seen you in so long, but then it seems like not long ago I saw you the last time getting ready to pass over. Being honest I am haunted some days and nights, seeing your unseeing eyes and the grimaces you sometimes made, which did lessen that night into morning. I still feel you tightening your grip on my hand. A year Dad and they same time helps heal the pain, I don't cry everyday like I used to, but a piece of my heart and soul died when you died. I will never be the same without you. Dan and I are able to think of some things now over the course of your illness that we can laugh about and talk about. The burned table at Denny's, the "raw" prime rib, you hovering over Nick while he was BBQing, Dr. Nolan saying you were just "eccentric" Thank God for Dan who caught so many medical/medication mistakes that I know would have caused you more discomfort and would have taken you sooner. There have been so many firsts without you, Fathers Day, your birthday, the July 4th picnic, even Dan having to sign your last income tax filing. So here I am rambling Dad, just know I've missed you everyday, every hour and minute. We Love you.
Thursday August 16, 2018 at 6:15 am