Remembering My Dad

This is a really difficult post for me to write, especially since I've slipped firmly into a deep valley of denial over the past few days. Last Friday morning, just after 5:25 a.m., my dad passed away. He was 81 and tired of being old, but even so his death was quick and shocking. He fell just a few days before that and broke his ankle. On Monday, doctors performed surgery to repair the break and inserted a metal plate. Wednesday, he seemed to be healing well and was even ornery enough to make us wonder how the nurses would put up with him in an extended care facility for 60 days or more. Then came Thursday, and his congestive heart failure began giving him trouble and just 12 hours later, my dad was gone. We hardly had time to catch our breath or absorb the fact that he wasn't doing well. We've been through the ordeal of funeral planning, and even the funeral itself, but we're all still walking around in a kind of daze. I don't know how soon I'll return to some kind of normal schedule, but I'll try to post again in a few days.