Three Years

Three years ago my father was lying in his Hospice bed waiting for peace to finally be with him.  His entire family rallied around him hoping that his transition would be peaceful and that any pain he was experiencing would be final.  Peace was with him as he took his final breath with me and my sister-in-law witnessing.  

It was a relief to know that Daddy wasn't suffering any longer but so sad that we would never get to see him again, feel his hugs and kisses, and know how much he loved us.  No one loved his family more than my father.  We were the most important thing in his life, I figured out after he died, that nothing would stand in his way to make sure we were always present.  He would speak with family at least once a week, and this includes his brother and sister-in-law who he loved very much.  

I think about him and Mama every day.  I'm so much like my mother I can't help but think about her.  I talk like her, laugh like her, have mannerisms like her, that sometimes it scares me.  And Daddy, when I smile with my mouth closed I'm like him, my gentleness around animals and enjoying being around others I'm like him.  Of course, I strive to be a better person every day but I have some good role models to help guide me.  

As tomorrow approaches, the third anniversary of his death, I pause and think about my father and how much we loved him and how much others loved him.  We all are better people to have known him.  God bless you, Daddy.