I called my Daughter at work and asked her to head to the hospital. I booked the earliest flight I could get post Dr visit. That night and the next morning were truly hellish. The pre surgical visit included imaging and a long wait at the pharmacy.
Then, Tom & I had a very tense drive through dense Atlanta traffic with the hope that I could catch an earlier flight to Maryland.
I was standing at a gate, begging to be allowed onto a flight, when the call came. Leslie spoke calmly and said, “I need you to sit down. Grandpa just died peacefully. Gma is with him and so are Aunt Fay, Uncle John and the the cousins.”
My Dad died surrounded by people that loved him best. Except me, who was torn between love of Mr. Wonderful and his surgical needs and love of my Dad and my desire to hold his hand as he went. I wanted to be there to comfort my Mom.
Life did not allow me that opportunity or privilege. I sat in the Atlanta airport with my head down, trying not to howl in public.
But Still: I had 63 years with a great Father. He died surrounded by people that loved and honored him. The last words I said to him were ‘I love you.” As my Dad used to say about just about everything - “It doesn’t get any better than this.”
It didn’t get any better than my Dad.