Gratitude

My sincere thanks to all of you who left such kind comments on the passing of my father.  Your thoughts are truly appreciated, and I look forward to visiting each of you very soon.  I will be staying with my mom tonight and Wednesday night; my sister stayed with her all of last week.  We're trying to help mom to gradually transition to being there alone.  She's not afraid to stay there by herself, but she does dread being alone all the time.  She's very fortunate in that she has truly wonderful neighbors, church family, and us.   I titled this post "Gratitude" and that may seem strange upon losing a father.  However, his passing could have been so much worse, and much more frightening for him and my mom, had they not gone to the hospital when they did.  My dad essentially died from kidney failure; being on dialysis for the past five years was so hard on his body.  When he went to the hospital two weeks ago, he had an infection and an obstruction.  The infection was responding to antibiotics, but the obstruction could only be fixed by surgery, and my dad was absolutely not a candidate for surgery at that point.  His body was weak, he'd lost so much weight, and his immune system was compromised.  The surgeon talked to us in detail about this on Saturday afternoon.  There were so many "what ifs" and risks, my mom was agonizing over making a decision.  Fortunately, God took that decision out of her hands.  My dad just slipped into a deep sleep sometime Saturday, and didn't wake again.   

    I think this last year was the hardest for my dad, having lost both of his legs above the knees.  It took away the last of his independence, and he lost all interest in the things he'd cared about in life -- with the exception of his family.  I saw him the day before he went into the hospital, and he was having a good day.  My sister and I were both there, with our mom, and my dad told me when I was leaving how very much he loved us all.  We knew that he did, but he always wanted to tell us.   I have dreaded the loss of a parent for some years now.  Hal and I have been so very lucky to still have all four of our parents all these years; many of our friends had already lost one, or both, parents.  I've been reminiscing on my childhood this summer, and it's almost like a part of me knew this was coming.  I'm thankful for my dad and everything he meant to us.  My dad never had any boys of his own, and he was so tickled when our son was born (not that he ever loved Will a bit more than his granddaughter, mind you).  Will was born on August 13th, and 28 years later, my dad passed on from this life.     On this past Friday, my dad was buried in the graveyard, known as "God's Acre" behind the church that he loved so much.  Rest in Peace, Daddy -- we will miss you.