My father passed away about an hour ago. He was 72.
It was not at all unexpected, as he had been battling an unusually aggressive prostate cancer for a couple of years. New tumors were choking off his colon, and since further surgeries promised to be only temporary holding actions, he made the decision about three weeks ago to go home from the hospital and wait out the end there with family and friends around.
Though there were still a lot of things left unsaid between the two of us, I was at least able to travel to Utah to visit him and say goodbye. I sat up with him one night from two to six in the morning, taking my turn on the watch. He woke up at three and drifted in and out of consciousness the rest of the morning. At one point he turned to me with hollowed cheeks and those blue, blue eyes I inherited (along with plenty of other traits) and said, "I wonder what it's like on the other side." An atheist, I didn't have much of a response to that, except to venture that I'd heard it might be nice there.
He is survived by my mother, his eight children (of whom I'm the eldest), something approximating 17 grandchildren, and one older sister (the last of his five other siblings).
I hope you're enjoying a big reunion party, Dad, even if it's just the one in my mind.
