My dad died on January 5, 2021, after a long illness.

It took me from then until now to commit that reality to paper, and I continue to deal with the grief and trauma of caring for a dying parent. Nothing can prepare a person for the heartache of caring for a someone they love and admire. I knew my dad needed me. He trusted me and I think I honored that trust right up until the end, and because of that some things will remain private forever. Also, some things will humble me forever, but I would not trade a minute of the past year for any price. I am not unique, and I am not a wonderful caregiver. Without the help of my wife I would have surely failed, or more likely, I would have burned myself out completely. It is important to know that caregiving is going on all around us every day, and it can become exhausting. God bless these family members who are doing the best they can, day in and day out, who question their own abilities, but keep getting up every morning and keep doing the best they know how. Nobody else may know, but your Creator knows, and that is enough. That is more than enough.

I have so many memories of my dad. I grew up with giants, and my dad was chief among them. We live in a world where men are looked down on now, especially white men, but it wasn’t always like that. The men in my life were larger than life itself. They didn’t second guess themselves or question every move. They did what needed to be done. I love those men and I am a shell of what they were to me.

Some time much later than now, with more time to heal from the burden of this memory, of the hard part of dying, and of hard decisions, I will talk of many wonderful things my father did that will never be known or acknowledged by any but a few, but not now. Now as we approach what would have been my dad’s ninety first birthday, and our first Christmas without our patriarch, we are almost to the end of a year of firsts. A hard year. I will wish my dad a happy Heavenly Birthday and a Merry Christmas, and draw comfort from the certainty that he is much more blessed than those of us he left behind.

So I am certain that my dad knows I love and miss him, and that I would not wish him back from paradise. Life is for the living, but sometimes I think about a reunion that I very much look forward to, with those who beat me home.

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