The last time I saw my dad alive was at the hospital. The nurse called me early in the morning and told me to come say good-bye but that I could take my time but that it would be today. I took my time and about two hours later she called to tell me to come now.
I hung out just talking to him as he laid there loaded with morphine with a machine breathing for him for about 2 more hours. Finally I left because I knew what he was doing. He was refusing to die in front of me.
I was right. It took me about 45 minutes to get home from the hospital and the second I walked in the door his doctor called me to tell me they did everything they could but he was gone.
Having two parents die 7 weeks apart is tough. You do things that you never thought you'd have to do. I had to call a funeral home, get them cremated, pick up their ashes in simple cardboard boxes since I couldn't afford anything else (they're still in those boxes, in my closet), then I had to plan their funeral, a joint funeral for my parents...
Me and dad at Disneyland in CA:
Me and dad about 4 or 5 years ago (this is at our first apartment):
Me and dad, I'm about 2 here:
Dad first meeting Annika:
Dad reading to Annika: