The Day

The words I did not want to hear were spoken today.

 

My mother called me at 4:30 a.m. and told me that Dad had passed away. 

 

It happened too soon; we did not expect it so.  I cried until my head hurt.  A dear friend came over to be with me while I gathered my thoughts.  Then it was time to plan.  I called the airline, purchased a ticket, made coffee, and packed.  Within hours we were out the door headed to the airport.  As I sat on the plane, I kept my head turned towards the window.  Occasionally a tear or two would slip.  Dad's passing was like the gunshot at a race signalling the start of many changes that will take place rapidly.  Just the thought of seeing my family at the airport induced more tears.  

The day became progressively more challenging as we made preparations for the funeral.  Oh my god, it was almost overwhelming.  Just when it got too much for Mom, I stepped in with the decisions.  When it got too much for me, my brother stepped in.  But you know what, even the funeral director contributed.  He gave us the sign-in book, the memorial cards and the thank you cards for free.  He asked me which collection would I choose.  I picked the one with the painting of Thomas Kincaid's garden steps.  I could image Dad walking again and going up those steps to a place far grander.  Once I told the director my preference, he then said he wanted to give us the set at no charge.  That brought more tears to my eyes.

This evening the aunts and uncles came over with their treasure troves of pictures.  We scoured through photos and laughed, retelling familiar stories and remembering ones we had forgotten.  It helped Mom to have many people at the house.  Now that everyone has left, reality reminded her of what took place much earlier today.  She will get through it.  We will get through it.  But it will take time.

Rest in peace, Dad.  I'm here...but it's not the same without you.  I love you.