My father passed away a few months ago, and I didn’t realize how hard that would make it to get through today. I’m so angry about his being stolen from us, not by the cancer he fought (which was gone) but rather by the chemotherapy “cure” that damaged his lungs.
He was living with us this past year, and I grew to appreciate him in new ways during that time. He had mellowed out over the years, sloughing off many of his negative qualities and nurturing so many of his good ones, like his indomitable spirit, his devoted love of his grandchildren, his culinary skills, and his sunny optimism. We were lucky to have spent the time we had with him, and he is very greatly missed.
One of the last sentences he uttered when he woke up in a hospital bed surrounded by his family and loved ones was “Thank you so much for this beautiful picture.”