I’ve debated whether I needed to share this or not. I’ve dreaded these words for years. Today I lost my dad. Worst of all, it came like a thunderclap from out of the blue.
Just last Friday dad went with friends to a great catfish restaurant thirty miles from home. Monday he was out in the woods clearing weeds around his deer stand and installing seatbelts. Dad was eighty-four and he often fell asleep sitting in his recliner. He was worried he might do the same in the deer stand and take a bad fall. Truth is, he’s been falling asleep in his deer stand for years. 
He’d never admit it. The seatbelts were a welcome step because my cousin fell from his deer stand last year & needed back surgery. Dad always spent late August and September getting his deer stand ready and his rifle sighted in.
Late Tuesday night he woke with diarrhea. By Wed night he was vomiting and feeling weak. He fell a couple times Wed and Thursday night. Mom thought he was getting dehydrated and pushed fluids Thursday and he even ate a bowl of soup. He was even weaker Friday morning and they called an ambulance. Still “no big deal”, IV fluids for a day and he’ll be fine.
At least that’s what we thought. Instead we discover he’s in sepsis. Doctors say it’s a twisted bowel and rush him in to surgery. They find everything inside black and return him to Intensive Care. He had signed a do not resuscitate statement years ago. He was pronounced dead two hours later. A man that went to his favorite catfish restaurant Aug 19 is dead exactly one week later. 
The shock of his sudden death is much worse than if he’d died after a decline. His mom lived to 101. I was the one that printed all the banners, posters, and invitations for the 100th family reunion party in 1995. We all kidded daddy that he’d outlive us all. We were wrong.
My dad was never a man that I could get very close to. I love you and hugs were never part of him. He showed love by actions. Just three weeks ago he surprised me with a load of top soil in his truck to fill in some washed out areas in my yard. It was hard to talk to dad. He was either outside in the yard working or inside watching tv & crocheting. I tried to squeeze conversation in during commercials whenever I visited. We couldn’t talk when he was crocheting because it messed up his knot count. Even phone calls involved a minute of talk and he handed the phone off to mom.
A lot of men from his generation are like that. I’d urge people to never stop reaching out to their loved ones. Do what I couldn’t and kick down those barriers. Life is too short to waste. I wish there were more good memories and I’m still struggling to believe he’s not home now sitting in that recliner and crocheting. I find it inconceivable that he’s not on a trip somewhere and will be returning.
This pain will pass. My faith helps a lot. I know I’ll see him and my other relatives someday in a better place. I’ll try my best to honor his memory by improving and becoming a better man. I want to reach out and volunteer for some projects and make whatever years I have remaining productive. Dad’s death is a strong reminder that my expiration date is running out too. I hope to live at least as long as he did, but there’s no guarantees in this world. I’ll try my best to stay healthy, eat better and exercise more. I never had any sons. When I die that will be the end of this branch of the family tree.
Thank you for listening. I needed to say these things. Some of it are things that can’t be shared aloud. Can’t speak ill of the dead. Especially hours after they pass away.
I loved my dad and will miss him for the rest of my life.