I’ve mentioned it before, he was diagnosed with terminal cancer and given 2-3 months to live around Xmas time. His two-three months was up today, at 4:55pm.
For me, he died about a week ago, when he was no longer able to talk or even swallow. Ivylad was over there several days a week, and hospice was a godsend, and they made him as comfortable as possible, with oxygen and morphine and ice cubes in his mouth. It’s like He was already gone, and we were just waiting for his body to get the message.
We got a call from Ivylad’s sister this afternoon that Dad was gone, so we packed up and went over.
I brought the kids back home so they can go to school tomorrow (life goes on, and there’s nothing they can do to help anyway until the funeral) but I’m taking the day off work to go with Ivylad and his sisters to the funeral home to make the final arrangements.
I’m okay. I’ve never had a loved one die, so I had some strange idea you’d be crying nonstop for hours. That’s not the case. You cry, you get over it, then you find something to laugh about, then you sit quietly, thinking. I had a good cry in Dad’s computer room, where he had his D56 and his train stuff, then we had a nice time going through pictures. I got weepy again when Ivyboy asked Grandma if he could put some stuff to be cremated with Grandpa.
This was a man who loved Ohio State, loved trains, loved Ebay, adored his wife and kids and grandchildren. He always wore the Santa hat at Christmas when he handed out presents. He loved fried catfish with lemon, Diet Coke, and ice cream. He loved golf and football and Scotland. He was in the Air Force as a cryptographer and a cop, where he hurt his back carrying a tv out as evidence in a robbery and slipped and fell on an ice patch. He loved chow dogs.
Goodbye, Dad. I’ll take good care of your son and your grandchildren.