My father passed away last week. I really don’t have much to say about it here, but I think I have to put this much down to clear my mind — I have a more private journal where I wrote the details of his death, and my own thoughts and feelings, but I will not be sharing them, here or elsewhere.
It was a pretty rough week: he was in the CCU for a few days before he was gone, and we were with him through to the end. His wake was Thursday and his funeral was Friday, and the only bright spot was that he’s now buried in a beautiful place in the iconic, historic cemetery in our old home town, which he loved. (An old school friend was at the funeral, and after the burial he showed us his wife’s grave not far from my dad. My school friend Mike is also buried nearby.)
I suppose I’d been preparing myself for this for a while, but it still felt like “not yet, not yet,” and I’m sad but mostly OK, but every so often the grief just comes out of nowhere and hits me again full force.
Goodbye Dad, I didn’t want to say goodbye. I love you, I love you forever.
