My mother died on April 4, 1987 from brain cancer. It was an eight week blur from the hospital for tests on Day 1 to her death at home.
22 years, 11 months and 24 days later, a total of 8,394 days, my father died on March 28, 2010 of a heart attack.
In the years in between, he retired, played a lot of golf, had a small picture framing business in the basement, and got to meet and enjoy his five grandchildren.
But in the last 12 years of his life, he slowly declined. A knee replacement slowed him down, triple bypass, peripheral arterial disease took his left leg, but he kept moving along in his scooter at his assisted living facility. Until a heart attack, “an angel’s kiss”, sent him on his way to heaven.
My theory is, my mother was waiting for him all these years, but he didn’t want to leave his girls. He lost his mother when he was three, and his father just before his 11th birthday. Even though we were in our early 50s, I think he just didn’t want to leave. Finally she said, “it’s time, they’re all fine”.
Every year, this week brings up the memories of how much we loved them and miss them.
Thoughts From The Passenger Seat 