Yes I still cry every once in a while and I don’t know where my tears come from; something just triggers my memory–vivid, painful memories–of the time during which Dad was dying. Today, it was a story on NBC that Ann Curry documented of her last moments with her father and what she went through. Sitting there listening and watching sent me straight through some speedy time warp to the month of aching hell my mother, siblings and I went through while taking care of Dad during his last days.
I don’t really like to remember Dad while he was sick because it makes me so mad, sad, frustrated and helpless that he had to suffer so much; but during everything he went through I will always remember how gosh-darned positive he was about his illness right up until the day he died. He was a fighter and ever so optimistic, faithful, loving and proud. He even told me one time how proud he was of all of us, his children, how we all worked together so well to take care of him and mom. There’s only one reason for that and it is because he never would have had it any other way. He was all about his family and teaching us to always be there for one another, strong and united.
I can’t say why these flood gates open up on occasion, they just do. My only theory is that it is God’s way of helping us to remember our loved ones as we go about our daily lives. After three long years without Dad all I can say is that he is still with me daily, always on my mind, and that I still miss him sorely; but I know he is around us watching over us all the time. I love him so, so much.