This week drew to a close a long struggle that was fought for the last four months. On Wednesday morning, at 0545, the strongest man I have ever known died. I was curled up in one of the most uncomfortable chairs ever - no lack of those in a hospital setting - when the nurse leaned over me and whispered my name over and over until I sat up, blinked, and looked at her.
"I'm so sorry," she said, tears in her eyes, "but as of ten minutes ago, your father's heart stopped beating. There's no blood pressure. He's gone."
Saturday, November 26, 2016
August 9, 2007: a reflection of pain
It's been one year and about 11 hours since my Dad passed away. So much has changed in the past year for me. I made the life-changing decision to get out of the Air Force and move to my dream city of Chicago. While my dream city has not been meeting expectations, I know that it will once I've given myself enough time to grieve the loss of one life and the beginnings of another one.
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