Graduation day

My mother reminded me this morning. It has been two years already. It feels so much longer. My dad only spent one night at the hospital. We got a call early on Tuesday morning. My mother told me that, although they told her he was fading, he was already gone. I don't think it was one of her clairvoyant moments. I think she just believed hospitals prefer to say "they're leaving" to "they're gone". We drove to Greenville right away. But we didn't hurry. Two white tail deer bounded across the road as we traveled through the early morning fog.

So much of those last fews days are a horror. I don't know if it better to remember or forget. Despite my mother's admonition to be happy- that this was a happy day- I cried. I cried. I was numb. And, when we went to visit the minister she'd chosen, I had no memories to add. I couldn't touch that part.

I loved my father. I didn't figure out until I was 18 that he wasn't perfect. Well, I knew he had bad habits. But, he was my dad- who helped me, who told funny jokes, who always had a hug for me everyday. We spent much of one summer together when I was about 13 or 14- golfing every evening after work.

Then I got too old and too busy. Then, he fell from grace.

Its just a part of growing up. Parents becoming human. Learning forgiveness and acceptance.

In his last years I learned how much alike we are. Quiet. Hard working. Determined. (But, I can't remember a joke.)

He was 78. Until the last few weeks, he was going to live to be 80. His last surgery had been the previous winter and the doctor then told us he would likely not get out of the hospital. But, he got out. He healed. He walked laps around the house. He golfed- up to the week before he died.

Happy graduation day, Dad. I still love and miss you.