Monday, Monday

My dad, Christmas I think, about 2 years ago.

It's funny, they say when people are dying that their life flashes before their eyes.

What no one seems to talk about is the fact that when someone is dying - the people being left behind often experience something similar.

I can't quite recall when dad was diagnosed with congestive heart failure, but I believe it was around 2004. 

I can honestly say that I, up until April 2012, really ignored it, sticking my head in the sand, much like an ostrich.  If I didn't acknowledge it, it didn't exist, right?

Unfortunately it does exist and dad is already two months past his 'six months' to live.

He has been a trouper, a fighter, never quitting and never giving up.  Even as his body is shutting down, in his mind "as soon as his knee feels better" he can go get a hair cut.  Dad is pretty well bed ridden having dizzy spells many times a day.  His hands are cool to the touch often, and his feet have begun to turn purple, both sure signs the end is coming.

As always though, sick or not, dad is a three squares kind of guy and hasn't missed a meal yet.

He has lived so much history it is astounding, truly an unsung hero.  I don't even think he knows what a hero he is to his own kids.

He was able to give us a life most kids were probably jealous of.  I think by the time I finished high school I had been to Disneyland at least 7 times, had seen Mt. Rushmore, the Grand Canyon, both oceans several times over and been to the top of the Sears Tower (I have no clue what they call it now).   

He instilled in me my sense of right and wrong, black and white,.  He picked me up when I was down and told me what an idiot I was when i deserved it. 

He was the father to both my girls, even though neither of them seem to appreciate it yet.

He is my rock, my hero, and I'll always love him and be so very proud to have had him as my dad.

It's okay to let go dad, heaven couldn't be getting a better guy.