Thing Two wants to give him his blankie, buy him a toy, and then he'll feel better.
I haven't been able to tell the boys yet that he's dying.
It's hard enough for me to type that.
Watching someone die - well, what can I say, it's not fun. Especially when it's your Dad.
Your Dad who taught you how to be silly, and to laugh at dumb jokes, and tell stories, and find joy in nature, and give to others, and find the good in everyone, and be selfless to one's children.
I'm still working on that last one, Dad.
Bumpa story #1:
And my kids better prepare for hearing LOTS of these stories.
I lived in CO after college. I did graduate from college and decided to put my degree to use by skiing in Vail and drinking A LOT.
I did this for two years.
Prodigal daughter.
I finally had enough when I didn't have car insurance, health insurance but instead acquired an insane amount of debt likely related to my debauchery.
I called my Dad at work and said, I'm ready to come home, will you help me?
He said, I'll call you right back.
Within 15 minutes, he calls back and says, I've rented the UHaul truck and I'll be out next weekend to drive back with you.
Now get this...
The man (who was 64 years old at the time) rode a Greyhound bus all the way from MN to CO for 24 hours straight to come get me and the truck and my stuff.
Now THAT, my children, is LOVE.
And he did it with open arms, gentleness and kindness. No "I told ya so's." No "Shame on you's." Just, "Let's go home."
So I thanked my Dad for that today. And I promised him that I would do that and more for my kids so they too can know what unconditional love feels like. That's the best way I can thank him for all he's done for me.
Ugh... Dad. This sucks.
