It was so sudden, which makes it both easier and harder to handle. On one hand, I'm grateful that he didn't die in a horrific accident or take his own life, that he didn't suffer unnecessarily. On the other hand, the suddenness of his death delivers a much harder blow.
I'm also glad I wasn't home for it, but I feel bad about Mom making such an awful discovery. She simply found him on the floor after dropping my siblings and me off at Institute, and the paramedics were unsuccessful. His heart just quit, which is eerily similar to how my paternal grandpa passed away. What's even scarier is that they were roughly the same age; Dad was only two years older than Grandpa.
I don't know what we're going to do now. We relied on Dad so much for so many things. It's also tragic that he died so soon after becoming a grandpa, that Lizzie and Josh and Spencer will spend the bulk of their lives without "Pop-Pop." God must have had a reason for calling Dad home; I'm not mad at God, and I'm not at all worried about where Dad is now. What bothers me is why it had to be this way, why now. I remember being scared of losing Mom first when she had cancer in 2007, and now it's Dad we've lost first. Now I'm worried about Mom, partly because she's all we have left, partly because she's been "sheltered" for so long.
I have several friends who have lost a parent within the last couple of years, and now I've joined the group. I remember telling my friends to simply focus on putting one foot in front of the other. I guess that's all I can do now. I can only take it one step at a time, and have faith and trust in God. I'm trying to, but I miss Dad so much. The house seems bigger and quieter without him, and I still half-expect to see him walk through the front door. He was supposed to help me settle my college debts, and basically support me until I found a job and got on my feet. He didn't even live to see Corie's high school graduation, which was yesterday; the rest of us were there (knowing Dad would have insisted that we go), and Aunt Sue, my mom's sister, accompanied us. Throughout the ceremony, I kept turning my head, expecting to see Dad, only to see Aunt Sue instead and have grim reality kick in once more.
There will be a viewing at Lindquist Mortuary on June 7, and the funeral will be at our church on June 8...exactly two months after Dad's birthday. I can't say I'm particularly looking forward to it. I imagine a lot of people will be there, and I personally invited a few of my old friends who have met Dad and know him to some extent. My friend Melissa said she'll come, and I hope to see my friend Paul, too.
On a slightly more uplifting note, the Relief Society has been planning a trip to the Salt Lake Temple on June 13, one week before my birthday. I have a feeling I should go. I need spiritual nourishment, and what better place to go to during a rough time than the temple? Thank the good Lord that death is not the end, that families are forever. As hard as it is for me now, I can only imagine how much harder it is for people who don't have a knowledge of the gospel, who only view death as "the end."
I love you, Dad. I miss you. And I hope you are happy and where you're supposed to be.
