After last night I wasn’t sure I could get through another night of staying up for my father, of spelling my mother so she could sleep. It was a hard night, mostly because I had to be up, and helpful, and compassionate, the whole night, sometimes more often than once an hour.
Maybe my father knew this, how tired we were. But maybe not, because I don’t think he passed away on anyone’s schedule but his own.
But I’m getting ahead of myself a bit. My father died today at home at 3:35 PM. My mom and I were with him up to the end.
The hardest thing I’ve had to do today was call my brother and tell him our father had passed. There have been other very hard things, too.
Every person who’s read here, who’s talked to me, who’s sent us food, who’s thought of us but didn’t know what to say. You were holding my mother and father and I up today. I was bolstered by your presence.