Dad

Dad died around 6:20 this morning, peacefully in his sleep.

Last Wednesday, we stopped over by my parents' house for Carlton's birthday. I helped Dad put his glasses on and gave him his cup. He was actually a little feisty, swatting at my hand for trying to take his cup away. It was amusing how much he behaved like Elias. He looked as though he'd make it another month or so. I found out he'd had another stroke while we were at the beach, which left him unable to speak.

Sunday, we stopped by after church. Dad was lying in his hospital bed asleep, so I sat in there and visited with Mom and Carlton. Every now and then Dad would wake up and stare at the ceiling. He did look for me when I was talking, but never spoke. Jac came into the room to say hello to Granddaddy and bent down to hug him and Dad actually reacted enough to kiss Jac on the cheek. It was a sweet moment of recognition. The next morning he had a seizure.

Last night, Mom texted me around 2am that Dad's vitals were extremely low. Around 4am, he was barely breathing, and by 6:20 he was gone. I feel sad, but it's an "okay" sad. It didn't come as a shock, and there were no unanswered questions. He lived a full life and passed away exactly like he wanted: asleep in his own bed, not hooked up to any machines, and not in any pain. I feel a sense of relief for him because he had been through so much in the past two years. I definitely miss him, but I wouldn't wish him back here, back in that poor host of a body. I've been preparing myself for this day for a few years now, but I don't think I was ever ready.