Even when someone dies, life goes on for those who remain. It’s a strange feeling. I often think about my father’s last few weeks. Could I have done things differently? Were there things I should have told him?
My father passed away three days before his birthday, and we held his funeral a week before Christmas.
One of the last things he said was, “What’s all the fuss? I’m not going to die!”
His final wish was to have a cigarette, and I shared one last cigarette with him.
After that, everything felt like a blur.
He is gone, even though he didn’t want to go.
[insertniftyphrase] 