My parents celebrated their 55th wedding anniversary on November 14, 2019.
Four days later, my father died.
Dad wasn’t in good health. He’d been in heart failure for the last few months. But still … we didn’t expect Dad to die quite so soon or so suddenly. Here’s his obituary. He was 79 years old.
Two of my brothers called to let me know what had happened, what was happening. I called my husband and he came home from work. We packed, called a nephew to take care of the animals, and headed out. Dad died while we were en route with just another 100 miles to go.
I took a two-week leave of absence from my work, notifying clients on the fly. I did what I could to help my mother. I wept the day after we returned while washing dishes.
There’s usually a reason–not necessarily a good one–why I don’t post my usual blogs. I won’t finish my latest work-in-progress either by the end of the year. I take these personal commitments seriously. But this time, I’ll simply beg your indulgence.
My father died and I’m still grieving.