My dad died Thanksgiving night.
My cousins hosted the Thanksgiving feast, as they have so graciously and generously done for many years. Dad ate more than usual; he hasn’t had much of an appetite for some time. But he had a great time talking with my cousins and enjoying the warmth of a loving extended family.
Later that night, at home with my mom, what he thought were GI symptoms turned out to be something else. And his weakened heart just quit. My mom performed the chest compressions the 911 dispatcher recommended. But she thinks he had gone long before the responders arrived.
When asked to produce documentation that my dad had indeed signed a do not resuscitate request, she did so surprisingly easily for the circumstances…because my dad had left it in a place she could easily find. And that was my dad.
Michelle and I had hoped he’d make it to Christmas. We’re visiting then. But he did not. And he did not get to meet his great-grandson.
But he lived a full and rich life. His last days were joyful. His very last day was spent in gratitude. And his last moments were spent at home.
We are all living on borrowed time. I do not know the creditor. Nor can I muster any suitable collateral to guarantee the loan. I want more than I have, but will take what I am given. May all our debts be graciously forgiven.