Where has the time gone?

Tomorrow marks the 14th anniversary since my dad passed away and I still miss him as much now as I did 14 years ago. 
It was a beautiful spring but for me it was a blur with the poor health and decline of dad. The phone call from my sister. The end was coming for my dad. We had been through a lot since February. And as we went through all of this the world continued but my life shifted into a surreal mode. Like I was watching my life from the outside looking in.
The week before dad passed we were getting minimal responses from him and I knew things were not going well. I was to be the one to take dad out of the nursing home for the last time. For a ride around town and out to the farm to familiar sights the nurses told us. He was some what lucid but what he really saw I'm not sure. The following morning I took the early shift at the nursing home. To keep dad calm and let him know we were there so he would not be so agitated. We seldom left him alone the month he was in the home or even before that, first in the hospital then to the skilled care unit at our local hospital and finally the nursing home. That early morning I decided dad and I needed a change of scenery and I pushed him in the wheel chair up and down the hallways of the nursing home. I chatted about whatever popped into my head as we cruised the hallways before 6 a.m. and at the end of one of the hallways was a sun room.  I decided to stop, sit and just enjoy the sunrise, quiet and time with dad. As we sat there I wasn't even sure if dad knew who I was or if he knew that I was even there. But sitting directly across from him I broke the silence, while holding his hands and looking him in the eyes told him I loved him. Without missing a beat dad opened his eyes and looked directly back at me-eye-to-eye and told me in a loud, clear voice "I love you too Lynn". That was to be the last time dad would talk to me. I can't begin to count the number of times I've relived that moment. My heart was so filled with love and happy, but ached as I knew what was ahead. But how blessed I am to have had that moment with dad!
The following weekend when I got the phone call I went through a whole array of emotions. Denial, panic, anger, desperation. I didn't want to go home because I thought if I didn't go, dad wouldn't die. Panic for the fear that I was loosing my dad. Anger to be loosing my dad so young and my kids their grandpa-he needed to be around for football games, birthday parties and graduations-their lives. And desperation that this was the end-why? We'd had the flu at our house. The boys needed dress clothes as they were outgrowing everything- I had a whole list of things to do. Life was very busy with three young kids.
But early Sunday afternoon after my youngest son vomited  once again I knew I had to leave and get home, NOW. That trip was a blur. A brief stop at a Sam's Club to use the restroom and walk for a bit and I found myself in the book department briefly and  picking up a grieving book. I opened it, read a poem, closed the book, walked out of the store and back on the road. I had to get home. I spent the evening with my dad, mom and oldest sister. I was handed a booklet from hospice about they dying process which I stayed up to read. It was like I had written the booklet. It was exactly what my dad was going through and my family witnessing.
The phone call came an hour and a half after I had fallen asleep. Back to the nursing home. And this is where we stayed until 2:10 Monday, May 1, 2000. I was with dad as he took his final breath. I helped my mom tell him it was okay, he could to go, that morning. And I also told him my sister Carol was on her way but if he wanted to go she understood and she loved him very much. Ten minutes later dad left this earth with most of his family around him. The wave of grief and sorrow can not be put into words. I'd been there witnessing the birth of my three children-a wonderful experience and now I was there to help my dad make his final journey on this earth.  I remember walking out of the nursing home later to a beautiful spring day, the sun was shining and birds singing. And I was shocked that everything had not came to a screaming halt. The tears, sorry and sadness was overwhelming.
I am a firm believer that things happen for a reason...always have been. And it was while sitting at my dad's funeral three days later when the priest and a family friend started his eulogy and he started it with a poem....the same poem I'd read on my trip home when I stopped briefly and the only book I'd picked up, the only page I'd opened the book up to...the same exact poem.
                                                                       The Dash.

I read of a man who stood to speak
at the funeral of a friend.
He referred to the dates on the tombstone
from the beginning…to the end.

He noted that first came the date of birth
and spoke the following date with tears,
but he said what mattered most of all
was the dash between those years.

For that dash represents all the time
that they spent alive on earth.
And now only those who loved them
know what that little line is worth.

For it matters not, how much we own,
the cars…the house…the cash.
What matters is how we live and love
and how we spend our dash.

So, think about this long and hard.
Are there things you’d like to change?
For you never know how much time is left
that can still be rearranged.

If we could just slow down enough
to consider what’s true and real
and always try to understand
​the way other people feel.

And be less quick to anger
and show appreciation more
and love the people in our lives
like we’ve never loved before. 

If we treat each other with respect
and more often wear a smile,
remembering that this special dash
might only last a little while.

​So, when your eulogy is being read,
with your life’s actions to rehash…
would you be proud of the things they say
about how you spent YOUR dash? 

How true those words were for my dad. Dad's dash was one to be proud of. 

There were rough times with my dad and his health but my memories are happy ones. My dad and I had

a special bond. There hasn't been a day over the past 14 years I haven't thought of him or something has

reminded me him. I see traits of my dad in all three of my kids. How proud he'd be of each of them! 

I've always been told a am a mixture of both my parents and I have always enjoyed this comparison-

I'd like to think I got the best of both! 

So as tomorrow rolls around I like to think dad is looking down with pride and love at his whole family.

I miss his sense of humor, laugh and deep blue eyes. Love you dad.