Dad

My father died Tuesday afternoon. He was 81 and had Parkinson's Disease. A year ago he and my mom moved in with my brother, and I'm certain my father was very happy during that time. My mother was with him when he died. Parkinson's had robbed him of his true self, and I'm not sure he even knew what was happening at the end. But I'm certain he knew his family loved him, and I take some comfort in that.

And I know he is now at peace. The pain will pass for me, as well. But right now, it's time to grieve, to comfort my mother and to try to ease some of my brother's burden.

"Be at peace and put aside all anxious thoughts and imaginations." --St. Francis de Sales