Overwhelming. It is all so overwhelming. I've lost friends, relatives, and people that I have worked with, but the loss of my Dad has hit me the hardest of them all.
As most of you know, my Dad passed on December the 23rd. He had had medical problems for quite a few years. It seems that I always feel that it will get better, even though I knew deep down that it wouldn't. You hope, you pray. Things seem to get a bit better for awhile. Then, it's back to the hospital. And again, you hope, and you pray.
His heart just gave out. He was tired and in pain all the time. He didn't say it. But you could see it in his face now and then. It was his time to go. He told Mom that he loved her. And he waved at her. Then he was gone.
Mom is really having a time of it. We kids have rallied around to help, to do what we can. It is much harder on her. How do you cope with the loss of some ne that you have spent the last 40 some years with? I can't imagine it myself.
Plus, there is the 40-some years of stuff that my Dad thought was important enough to keep. Silly stuff, if you think about it. He had five address books, the little pocket kind. With numbers! Not phone numbers, just numbers. Or little notes that he would write to himself. Or a list of things for prepping. Or a recipe for hard tack.
He had some news clippings from the paper, about little towns that no longer exist that we were going to go and metal detect once he felt better. He had written down directions to several lakes and ponds that he wanted to get to to fish. And, like a lot of men, there was that new firearm that he wanted to buy.
As we go and go through his belongings, we get to see a part of him that we may not have known about. Or a part of him that we have not thought about for years. Or we find something that we made for him when we were kids that he has kept all these years, hidden away, in a box or envelope, in the bottom of a drawer. Pictures of hunting trips or vacations from long ago.
It helps to talk and write about him. It gets hard to see the computer screen at times. I need to slow down and not be in such a hurry to help. That's probably why I ended up getting sick: pushing too hard.
Dad was cremated, as his request. He will be interred at Fort Logan National Cemetery on Friday, the 6th.
As it stands, I have his ashes. We have talked. Or I should say that I've talked to him. And that has helped some. Kathi has been a rock and of the greatest help. And, Nugget, our dog, seems to know whats going on. He was sitting in front of the table that Dad's ashes are on, and he just sat and stared for a bit.
Dad was quite a man. I wish you all could have known him. He touched an awful lot of people. He will be forever missed. He is now with family and friends who have passed before him. He is in great company.
I can just hear him now, starting a story with a smile on his face and a glint in his eyes.
He is home.