This is so hard to write.
My dad and his wife were here all last week, and we had a wonderful visit. I'm very close to my father, and have been all my life. Because of his age and failing health, I wasn't sure he'd ever be able to make the trip to my home again. That didn't really matter (who doesn't want to go to Florida now and again?), but it thrilled me that he made it back to West Virginia.
He was born here, in Huntington, 80 years ago last April. And, as it turned out, he died here, too.
Friday morning they had declined my offer to fix breakfast for them, saying instead they'd like to find a little local diner and have brunch down the road. They said their good-byes and were heading to North Carolina for a couple of days, expecting to get back to Florida tomorrow.
They found a spot to eat, had a meal and got back to their RV, where Daddy sat down, looked one last time at his wife and stopped breathing.
The rescue squad tried to revive him, as did the Emergency Department at Princeton (WV) Community Hospital. But he was already gone.
In real life, when someone learns of a death in the family, the word spreads through various channels - pastors announce it, colleagues tell colleagues, many phone calls are made, others take care of sharing bad news.
In the blogosphere, no one can post for you. No one else has your password, no one can log in in your place. You have to share sad news yourself.
I can think of nothing sadder than this.
I don't know when I'll be back. It might be my next sleepless night. It might be a while. I just don't know. But I thought I should at least let you know what happened, and why I haven't been here lately.
Sent from my U.S. Cellular BlackBerry® smartphone