I had written a huge essay at 3 AM about this, but erased it and came back now with a much shorter version:
My dad passed away yesterday at about 3PM.
His 98th birthday was Sunday...I was fortunate to be there with him to celebrate it, and at that time he was still up, around, and sharp as a tack. I came back home to wait for the call.
He had told his doctor a few weeks ago that he had abdominal pain, so he went in thinking he had a small hernia. Instead it was colon cancer, and it had spread.
For the first time in his life--he didn't push back. He was ready to join my mother again--he had missed her so much since she passed in '04. My brother and I never thought he'd make it 11 years without her, but he proved us wrong. They were married for 65 years.
He went from complete independence on Saturday to mostly unable to stand on Sunday, to bed ridden (in-home hospice) on Monday...and passed yesterday while his grand daughter rubbed his back and read a book to him. She tearfully told me that he opened his eyes wide, looked right at her and smiled as he took his last breath.
I'll head down today and we'll bury him next to mom and get the rest of his business in order.
I'm so happy he didn't linger. Didn't suffer. Didn't fight back.
I'll sure miss him.
