A month before my Dad passed away, we had lunch together for the last time, for my birthday. He wanted to take me out for my birthday. And it was on April 30; he passed on May 30.
I found it on my calendar as I was searching for dates to enter into a report and ever since I saw it, I’m just sad. God I miss him so very much. I don’t know how to describe it; it’s different from when it was my Mom. My Mom was a shock, and she was sick with no hope of recovering so it was horrible and tragic and traumatizing and I held her hand as she died. But my Dad, we thought he’d be okay. We knew if he did the road home would be a long one but we were hopeful and at no point did anyone say “there’s nothing we can do” until it was over and they were asking if they should continue doing CPR. I hate knowing that those lunches we shared over the past 16 months after my Mom will never happen again. I won’t hear him say “hi Michele, this is Dad” on my voicemail again on a Thursday morning asking where I want to meet and when. Ugh. I just HAD to find it today, a day that wasn’t all that great to begin with. Thank you, universe. The kick in the stomach was just what I needed today.
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