Hi friends. I decided to follow in the footsteps of my writing sisters and make one of these spaces so I don't fall behind the times. So, here I am.
As many of you know, my brother Adam Everhard's and my father died on the night of July 8. He had a serious heart attack two days before my birthday. His heart was badly damaged. Because of his age (and the fact that he isn't Dick Cheney and can't pull those kinds of strings) he was not a candidate for a transplant, which is really the only thing that could have saved him. So he went into congestive heart failure, and he died.
Dad's body was cremated and we will have a memorial service tomorrow evening. It will probably be a lot more sentimental than he would have liked. Dad was very pragmatic. I'm not sure how he ended up with a couple of wet blankets like Adam and me. Our eldest sister is a lot more like he was. Mom isn't a particularly sentimental person either.
I just know I'm not going to sleep well tonight. I'm glad that I have a husband who understands my weirdness and doesn't tell me how I should be.
You have not ceased to exist, Dad, you have just flown beyond the horizon where we can't see you any more in this life. But we will see you again.
We love you.
Happy Father's day to Richard Bates, the best dad ever.
Gone way too soon.
With love always, from your little girl.
I suppose I cope pretty well with my father's passing because he was in declining health for so long that when the time came, it was a relief. The grief isn't as raw now as it was when he first died, but sometimes I still catch myself thinking "I really want to call Dad and tell him..." And then it hits me.
