“...Dad passed away”

Dad wanted to have a garden so we purchased some seed  and did some planting.

I had thought about the many scenarios when dad died. What would I do if I was at work, at my apartment or my parents home? My brother, Paul would have to be told by phone, and it would have to be voice to voice, not text and no leaving a message. I did not want to tell Jim by phone but face to face.

But things don't always go as we wish.

When informed I was not alone. I was with mom, and in a sense with Dad. Jim was alone. I did not want him to be alone when I told him.

Now, two months later, I am not 100% certain who I told first. I suspect Jim. He would have been the one brother who would be able to do something immediately. I told each one the same thing.

“Sometime between 4 and 4:30, Dad passed away.”

It was straightforward and to the point, but yet seemed like it was not the right words. But what else could one say?

Many other people I imagined telling face to face. As many cousins as possible, and the pallbearers. Also, I imagined I would tell his sister Doris, face to face. News like this seems too impersonal over the phone  But I was home already. So phone calls were used.

When Jim arrived at the farm, about 8:30 in the morning, Tim Anderson of the funeral home was discussing things with Mom. I greeted Jim at the front door, walked with him to the bedroom.

He looked at Dad and began to sob. I joined him in sobbing. It has been the only time cried since his death. I don't know why that was the only time I cried. It was brief but beautiful.

I opened up my arms; he approached me, and I embraced him. In the many years before Dad passing, I would give my father many hugs. I was now a hugger. During this moment of sadness, It was splendid to hug Jim and sob with him.