Well, as you can see from yesterday, I was doped up all day and we went to bed early. I had checked FaceBook before I went to bed but turned my phone on silent because I didn't want any noises to wake up the kids. I wasn't going to church on Sunday because of the kidney stones anyway, so I didn't bother with an alarm. Usually that wouldn't be an issue, but we heard Ron's phone ringing at about 3 am.
It was Mom telling us that it wouldn't be much longer before Dad was gone. I think Ron had to tell me three times before it actually sunk in. Through the haze of really great meds, I finally realized that I needed to get dressed so that we could leave. He called Kay to come and sit with the kids. We got to Mom's by 3:30 am and it was obvious that it wouldn't be much longer.
I wonder why these things always happen at night? Is it so that when the sun comes up, your spirits lift? You can see the sun and know that it's another day? I'm not sure, but sitting in that room with Mom, Dad, Matt, Mandy and Ron it was a very somber group. We soon found places to light and settled in for however long it would take. We all dozed off and on and then everyone woke up about 8 am and Mandy volunteered to get breakfast for us. She brought breakfast back and we were all still sitting in the same places. Like if we didn't move, then nothing would change.
Finally, we decided to put in a movie about 11:30. Mom noticed at 11:56 that Dad was gone. When she said the words out loud, I don't think any of us knew what to think. We all immediately gathered around the his bed and couldn't believe that he was really gone. Lots of tears, lots of prayers and a whole lot of shock.
Even when you think that you're ready for them to go and finally be free of the pain, the actual reality of your parent being physically gone is heart wrenching. It doesn't seem fair that he is one of the good ones and he's gone. He's told us for several months, "I've had a good life" and "I'll be ready when it's my time", but I'm selfish and I wasn't ready. Not sure that I ever would really be ready to let him go. He is a wonderful man and is sorely missed here now. I know that he's busy where he's at and I'm sure he's still watching out for us, but I wish he was still here with me.
I'm sad for me and of course, Mom, but especially for my children. Kaleaha is the same age as I was when my Papa passed away. I still miss him. We were very close and there's not an event in my life that goes by that I don't miss him. I'm the saddest by the fact that Krennan will never know how awesome Papa was. He was used to "helping" him and sitting on his bed, but he never got to experience the same relationship that Kaleaha did. Papa had been sick most of his little life. Papa would pick Kaleaha up from school and take her to a variety of "their" places. The Nature Center, Creekmore Park (to ride the train) or to get her fingernails painted by Mamom. Every Thursday I believe that they both equally looked forward to spending that after school time together.
That afternoon we had a variety of visitors, special people who went out of their way to come and share their thoughts and feelings with us. We got the photo albums out and started picking out pictures for the video CD that the funeral home does and we had a good time looking at all those old pictures. They brought back a bunch of great memories.
Finally, everyone was going home and we talked Mom into coming to our house so that she wouldn't have to be alone. We all loaded up and headed home and it was very sad, knowing that tomorrow when we popped in he wouldn't be there anymore. I know it's life, it just sucks.
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