Father's Day

On Friday night my mom drove me home. Dad was back at the hospital with my aunt.

"Are you going to be okay?" she asked.

I nodded but the tears were coming.

"Are you sure? You can come and stay at our place," she said.

"I just want my dad," I said in tears as she pulled me in for a hug.

My uncle died on Friday afternoon. They were not able to control the swelling in his brain that was connected to the stroke and it eventually killed him.  I was in a family room at the St. Boniface Hospital with my family, my cousins and some of their mom's family when they announced that it was over. Tracy and I hugged dad. I felt grateful at that moment because I had a dad that I could hug. I didn't want to let go. But I also felt bad because my cousins were in the room and they wouldn't ever get to hug their dad again. I wondered if they saw us embracing and if we made the moment for them even worse. I hope not.

Even though it was over, it wasn't. Dad had to be there for other people a lot --as a brother, a brother-in-law, a son, and just for himself as a grieving person, and I found myself missing him terribly when I couldn't be with him. I am aware now of how I take for granted all the time I think I have with him, because I saw how in an instant that can be cut off.