And Just Like That…

After being a fighter his whole life, especially a fighter for his health these past few years, after my sister and I left for the night; after my mom was ready to settle in for the night; my Dad’s earthly body could take no more and he crossed over to be with The Lord. Just like that. “Absent from the body; present with The Lord” 2nd Corinthians 5:8. He crossed over with my mom present.

This isn’t easy. I never thought it would be. I feel especially blessed that 16 months ago when my Dad was diagnosed with colon and liver cancer “they” didn’t give him very long to live. “They” certainly never said he was going to live another 16 months. But we knew better. We knew my Dad was going to fight and he fought hard. We were blessed with more time with him. More time to talk and listen to his stories. My dad had a story for everything and every event. More time to just be with him.

My Dad and a lot of “one liners” such as telling me it’s a “shoppers sky” when I scored while thrifting or at the mall. He would call me the Fashion police if he saw someone wearing a questionable outfit. He sent me off in my first car (a huge 1976 Buick LeSabre) with the stern  instructions to “Just drive!” when I was nervous and I had to sit on a phone book to see over the steering wheel.  I still hear those instructions whenever I drive a vehicle that isn’t mine. “Just drive the thing!” I hear in my head. He was great to all my friends while growing up especially the teen years. He joked and laughed with all my guy friends (the majority of my friends were guys) and thought nothing of it if my sister and I had a party and everyone (yes, the guy friends) stayed over instead of going home. My dad would joke about “stepping over bodies in the living room” which was where everyone would crash for the night. He would good naturedly hide the “good cookies”  from certain friends of ours who were notorious in finding which cabinet they were in and eat them. I don’t ever remember a time my dad didn’t like one of our friends. There was one guy one of our dogs didn’t like and that made my father give that person the side eye.  When Tommy told my father he wanted to propose to me, my dad had two rules: 1. I was to finish nursing school first and 2. There were no refunds.

That was my dad.

 

 

 

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