Though it never is, is it?
My dad passed away late Friday night.
In an odd turn of events, he died on the same day my mom did, albeit three years later. It was a heart attack, we found out today. I joked, “Mom stole his heart…..again.”
So, in the middle of my move, I’m writing an obituary, fielding phone calls from friends and family, and planning a trip to Idaho.
In a fit of grim humor, I remind myself, this is the last time I’ll have to do this. I’m free after this round.
Free. Yet still so tangled up in them sometimes I find it hard to breathe.