I sit here tonight after a terrible fit of sobbing and vomiting. Just a few moments ago my baby brother informed me that father is no longer alert. Not even facially as he was just yesterday. He's mainly "sleeping", occasionally opening his eyes to look around.
It was such an incredibly difficult conversation with my brother, exchanging heartache and tears, yet attempting to console one another from such great distance. I feel guilty knowing I had a week with my father being alert and able to converse with me, yet my brother, only one day. Now he sits next to my father's bed holding his hand, struggling to stay awake for fear that he might miss just one more glance or squeeze of his own hand from dad. Many tears here as I share this with you.
My thoughts now? Many and overwhelming, accompanied with loss of appetite, body pain and sometimes feeling like there's not enough air in the room to breathe! Ugh.
I'll always call him "daddy". It might seem childish to some but that doesn't matter to me as he's my father and there's a gratefulness deep within my heart that words could never express. A gratefulness of knowing that a once tragic past of hurt and pain was mended and healed from a few simple words...
"I'm sorry, my precious daughter."
"I forgive you, daddy."
I know the Heavens rejoiced that day (a little over 3 years ago), watching a father and daughter reunite and start life once again. I only wish we were able to live that "new life" a little bit longer.
And daddy? I will NEVER forget you nor stop loving you.