Days

Just four weeks ago, my dad sat across from me on my deck as we read USA Today and drank a big glass if ice tea together. We power washed the deck and pulled out the roots of four large bushes that covered the corner of the yard. We worked really hard that day. I think I made him proud as I forgot all of my "girlie" tendencies while cutting down branches and digging holes. He chuckled as I tried to use the trimmer to sculpt the bushes to be symmetrical. As always, there was a comment about how I was at least putting my art degree to good use. Symmetry in landscaping is vital!

Just four weeks ago, he had abdominal pain and became jaundice.

Just three weeks ago, he found out that he needed to have his gall bladder removed.

Just two weeks ago, he had surgery to remove his gall bladder and kidney stones.

Just one week ago, he prepared to be transferred after surgery to a different hospital due to complications.

Just five days ago he was with all of his kids and grandkids saying his goodbyes if he didn't make it out of surgery to remove a tumor they found on his pancreas.

Just four days ago, he awoke from surgery only to be told they couldn't remove the tumor due to its location.

Just two days ago, my father learned he had inoperable pancreatic cancer.

Just one day ago, my dad learned that he was going die.

Today, I watched the sweetest man I have ever known, come to terms that he has a timeline. We all will eventually die, but not all of us know the time. It was already determined even before the day we were born. I wonder if this is a good thing or bad thing.

In three days, my dad will be coming home to be surrounded by his wife of forty five years, his four children and his 10 grandchildren. We will laugh, dance to all our family favorite tunes and sit out on the back deck in the red adirondack chairs with the candles lit. You will be able to hear the crickets as the fireflies dance in the night sky.

Tonight, I'm thinking of you Daddy, as I put my own three children down to sleep. It is then that I will climb into my own bed of slumber, say my prayers and praises and drift off to sleep with loving thoughts of the greatest man I've ever known.
Always,
Ed