My father died this morning. He had a massive heart attack and decided not to go to any great extremes to live; he didn't want to be an invalid, and let's face it, he had terminal cancer, so, that's that. They gave him morphine for the pain and he passed away holding my mom's hand.
I'm numb and teary, but coping. We had a month to get used to the idea that he was dying, and most people don't even get that. I had a couple more wonderful days with him. There was nothing left unsaid. He is not in pain anymore, and he is not afraid of the torture of cancer treatment anymore, and now he is everywhere, just in a different form.
I am grieving over the fact that I can't see him anymore, and can't ask his advice or listen to his voice anymore. I miss him already. My heart is broken, but I will heal. He taught me how.
I love you, Daddy, and I always will.
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