I've put off writing this post for quite awhile. I've known what I should write about next, but I just haven't wanted to do it. But I feel like it's time. And this post is mainly for me, so if you don't make it to the end, it's understandable.
When I last wrote, my dad was going in for some tests. The results were what we had feared - prostate cancer. It had already spread past his prostate, so surgery wasn't an option. But the doctor said that while it is an aggressive form of cancer, and doesn't respond very well to treatments, it's also slow moving, and healthy men can live 5-10 with it without many problems. So we went with the doc's advice, and were not going to treat it for a while and see what happened with it. The doctor even said that he would most likely pass away from his other health problems before the cancer would get him.
The morning of July 8th proved just how right he was.
Just after 4am that morning, I heard my dad moving around quite a bit, so I got up to check on him. He had fallen in the hallway, and I couldn't get him up. So I woke my mom, and together we tried helping him. After a few minutes, he stopped responding to us, and then he stopped breathing. The paramedics came and tried helping him, but there wasn't really anything they could do.
I had texted Gaston when we couldn't get Dad up, and surprisingly, he texted me back right away. He said his eyes had flown open about 5 minutes earlier. He came right over and stayed all day and came over every day after that for the next week or so. I'm so grateful he could do that. He helped with anything we needed, and took us out to dinner. I wish my siblings could've been there more. I know they had work and kids to take care of (not everyone could take 4 days off from work like I did - so grateful to have an understanding boss/company), but I know it would've helped my mom to have them there more.
The next days were hard, of course. The viewing was Friday night, and the funeral that Saturday. I was surprised at how ok I was at the viewing. I did well until my best friend who I've known since I was 6 got there. She hugged me and that's when I lost it. But I made it through. The viewing before the funeral was harder. But it surprised me at some of the people who came, especially some of my dad's former Cub Scouts who I didn't recognize. And it also surprised me that some people who I thought would be there, weren't. I'm not upset or anything - it just surprised me because I would've liked to see them. But perhaps they had other things on and just couldn't make it.
The funeral was nice. My brother and my uncle spoke, my other one read the obituary, my sister played the piano (the same song she played at her husband's funeral), and my other sister and I just sat there and listened. I'm glad I didn't have to do anything. I don't know that I could've.
Now, we're just getting used to the new normal without my dad around. Time does make some things easier. But I still miss him. I miss him saying hi to me and asking how work was. I miss seeing him working on his word searches at the table. I even miss him watching dumb shows on tv.
I just miss him.