It's been a week now since my dad passed. I'm still processing everything and wondering what path my grief will take. It's difficult to be shattered over the death of a man who lived a long and full life. And up until the last few months he was enjoying life, even with the difficulties and discomfort he dealt with.
We thought we'd loose him so many times over the last decade. His health was one of the reasons I didn't go to grad school... the program loosing funding was the main reason. But it would've been hard moving across the country then, not knowing how much longer he'd be around.
I do know I'm glad his heart gave out before the Parkinson's took his mind. Dad had a great mind, sharp and witty, and if we all had to watch that be eroded away by a disease I'm pretty sure things would've been harder for all of us. And I know the Parkinson's was getting worse. He was becoming more and more childish and not remembering things...and people. He was also starting to see things... like his brothers calling him from across the street to come play ball.
I also know any of us will be lucky to reach the age of 94. Even luckier if we're still mostly mobile, comfortable, and mentally sharp.
There are people out there who will scoff, but I think my cousin was right. Grandma just decided it was time for him to come home. I also think she sent her other boys to call for him.