My favorite picture of me and my dad, circa 1980ish
My dad died on New Year's Day, around 1:15 in the afternoon. I was at home when I got the call. We had been expecting it at any moment for two or three days at that point, but it still somehow felt like a shock. It still doesn't seem real sometimes. How can my dad not exist anymore? It's hard to wrap my head around.
Dad was kept comfortable those last few days and slipped away quietly and peacefully at the end. I'm so grateful for that. He had been very, very sick for a long time. As sad as it is that he's gone, it's a comfort to know that he's beyond all pain and suffering now.
My dad was a kind, gentle, and generous man. Although he had lots of faults and made plenty of mistakes in his life, he was a good father to me. I never remember him so much as raising his voice to me, ever. For all the issues my family had when I was growing up (and we had plenty), I never once doubted his love for me. I hope he never doubted mine for him.
I was always my dad's little girl. I always will be.