It was the longest night I had ever had…Five years ago, yesterday.  It was the very end.

It had started earlier in the week.  My Dad had finally had enough.  He stopped eating.  I believe he was ready for it to end.  But living and breathing was still a stubborn habit not so easy to just quit.

I spent time with Dad and my mother.  It was sunny and warm, the last day.  And, I felt it was the last day.  I wheeled Dad out into the sun, in the garden.  We had him bundled up, despite the warmth; because he was always so cold.

I sat on the bench next to my Dad.  We had the space to ourselves.  I held his hand and told him what he meant to me; what he had taught me; what I appreciated about him.  I told him I loved him, and I thanked him.

I spent that night, with my Mom, in Dad’s room.  Listening to his labored, ragged breathing.  I slept uneasily, in a chair; waking frequently.  Wishing him relief and release.

Then, in the early morning, my Mom and I both woke.  It was different.  Dad’s ragged breathing had quieted.  We went to his side.

We were holding his hands and wishing him peace and rest, and love, when he finally got to feel free, again.

I’ve been having a chat with my Dad this past week, in my Morning Writing.  It’s been powerful to share with him again; even though he’s been with me the whole time.  I told him I am glad to hear that he is doing well.  He said he’s happy to see me doing well.  I told him I feel like a “hot mess” most of the time; but he’s assured me I’m not.  He says I’m on my path, a good path.

This conversation has been a bright spot in my days, my life.  It’s different than it was.  But, as my Dad points out—That’s Life.  In All Its Glory.

Love You Dad.