The call came at 5:00 pm. He was gone, just like that. He went to his room to take a nap and never woke up.
If I could have chosen it, this is the way I would have chosen for him. But not so soon. Not so soon.
The last 10 months, when I called him nightly and cared for him once a month on a weekend, were a gift. It was a time to get to know my father in ways I'd never been able to before.
We had a lot of fun together, talking about history, reading old family letters and looking at pictures, sorting through family memorabilia, reading each other the stories we'd written and offering critiques. It was a good time, and I cherish those memories.
I miss him a lot, but I am sure he was glad to finally end the home dialysis, the pain of moving, and the pain of losing my mother, his wife, 10 months earlier.
We had those months of nightly phone calls, of saying the rosary together. We made the time count. It's a good thing, because it will have to last me a very long time.
I miss you, Dad. Rest easy.