I was able to spend the last days of my dads life by his side, and I will always be greatful for that. I read him some Mark Twain, we listened to some Van Morrison and some U2, and I told him over and over again how much I loved him. Many of his lifelong friends (some since middle school) were able to come see him as well. The hospice nurse woke my mom at shortly before 5 to tell her it was time, and she was able to hold his hand and talk him through his last breaths. She said it was very peaceful, and he wasn't afraid.
My dad was a great man. Opinionated, flawed, smart as hell, and terribly funny. I consider myself terribly lucky to have had him, and to have had a father who I genuinely loved to spend time with. I cannot wrap my head around the fact that one moment my dad was here, and now he isn't. I want to say I am doing ok, but my heart is good and truly broken.
He didnt want a funeral, so we are having a memorial later this month at a local beer garten he used to go to all the time. I remember being there when I was 5 or 6, begging for quarters for the juke box and I remember having nachos with him there as recently as right before he went to live at the residential home. I think he'd really like that location.
