I found my Dad dead in his bed a week ago saturday around noon. Right now, I'm still trying to catch a deep breath. This week has been so aweful. First, find him gone. He's 71, but it wasn't really expected at all. Then, as his only child, I have to call everyone. I have too tell his two older brothers he is gone I have to answer questions. I have to do it over and over while I'm stunned, just lost and sitting there, and no idea what to do. I don't even know how I drug myself in to plan the funeral, to search for insurance and other financial info when I can barely breath. Going to find his clothes for the funeral was agony. Making sure everything he'd want was in order, and with him, beyond agony. To let him go.....sitting throught he funeral, the graveside military burial.....what can I say?
This has been the most God aweful week ever. My family is trying to be supportive, but I just feel lost, and overwhelmed with grief. I grieve not only the living person, but all the time I no longer will ever have with him. Now his grandchildren will allready be beginning to forget him in little ways I can't imagine. All that knowledge, lost. All those thoghts, lost. No good-bye. No idea what of his possessions is his most prized above all the others. No idea what to do with his stuff, I can't keep it all, I can't get rid of it, and I don't have a long time to think about it, either.
I swear I can't hold a thought in my head, excpet perhaps the pic forever etched in my mind of him laying on the bed before me, while I looked down at him while calling 911. I sear its all I could see in the beginning. Now I just see a long lifetime ahead of me, without my dad. It was only he and I.
