Dad, it’s been seven years since your last day here on earth, December 26, 2006. Some days it seems like a long time ago, and on others a short time.
I wish your last few years had been happier, healthier ones, especially the last one. If only some of the circumstances had been different, perhaps you’d have come to live at our house–but you chose to stay; it was what you thought was the easy thing. If you had known what was ahead, would you have changed your mind? Guess we’ll never know. I am glad now that you are with mom and I can be assured you are happy, healthy and safe.
In the end you didn’t know the lengths “she” went to in keeping you from us, but it was hard. After traveling half a country to get there, and arranging a time to visit, no answer at the door. When we were “received” she had hospice inject a sedative to keep you “unresponsive.” But at the sound of my voice, your eyes bounce and open, searching for me. Thank you, Dad—for letting me say good-bye for the last time and for responding to my voice. It’s another Voice you hear now and He is the Good Shepherd and we know His Voice. You are loved and missed, but we shall see you again, and for that I am deeply grateful.
Searching for Ancestors and Stories! 