Three months ago I traveled to Utah to see my father for the last time. I visited in October, and his health was obviously in decline at that time. When he fell and broke his arm and hip my sister Laurie urged me to come back, which I did. Dad waited until the entire family was there before he passed away. That was true to form for Dad. He was a peacemaker and always willing to make a sacrifice, big or small, if it would make this easier or convenient.
Two days after I arrived, Dad passed away in his sleep the evening of November 3, 2008. The days that followed were almost surreal: the whole family meeting up at the mortuary to plan Dad’s service; seeing Dad for the last time; touching his cold head and giving him one last kiss. Knowing that he was finally at peace.
You see, my Dad was in pain. Not a physical pain, as he was blessed with fairly good health. No, Dad missed my Mom. Mom passed away just a few months prior to the tragedy of September 11, 2001. I remember thinking at the time how much anguish that event would have caused Mom. Instead Mom was spared having to worry about those troubling events. Mom passed away in an instant to the total surprise of the family. A car accident took her life on day she was coming home from her hair appointment. That turned out to be one of the darkest days of Dad’s life.
(I'll finish this thought later as I have other things to do right now. My theme is that Dad's death caused me to re-new my relationship with my family and that has brought me a lot of joy these past few months. I find myself thinking about and reaching out to my sisters and brothers a lot more. It has also caused me to re-examine my life with my own children.)
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