peace & rest....

I have been trying to figure out what to write about what has been happening in my world lately. I suppose it's just best to tell it like it is: my father passed away on Tuesday, September 11th after an 18-month battle with brain cancer. I feel as if I have been living out a bad dream that I cannot wake from. We witnessed his rapid physical deterioration and his final breath; I am so grateful we were able to be with him, one of us by his side every single hour of his last days.
I miss him so much & can hardly comprehend the fact that he is gone. I have never seen such patience, devotion & love like my mother showed him. My mom is strong and amazing. She just kept going, a rock, stoic. My brother lifted him from chair to wheelchair to bed every night until he was no longer able to get out of bed. My sisters & I spent hours with him even though he could no longer acknowledge our presence.
We made every effort to help him feel comfortable & surrounded by love. We cried. We moved back into our childhood bedrooms. We barely slept. We worked from home. We worked half days & spent afternoons running errands: picking up prescriptions, shopping & cooking whatever sounded good to him. We talked and spent time with each other as well as with him, more time than we had in years. We all pitched in to help with chores like cleaning the house, laundry, taking deliveries & phone calls, chatting with visitors stopping in. Mostly though, we didn't know what to do with ourselves.
The days following are mostly a blur. A roller coaster of emotions, mainly unbearable sadness paired with exhaustion. Over 500 people came to his visitation on Thursday evening. Our feet ached. The next day was his funeral service. It was beautiful, but very sad. It felt entirely surreal and utterly definite, all at once.
My 3-year old niece came to visit on Saturday and asked my mom, "Where is Pawpaw?" My dear mother answered "Well, he went to heaven." To which Addie replied "I want to see him." Mimi's eyes glistened with tears as she answered "Me too, me too."
Our hearts are heavy. Sleep is needed, but hard to come by. Morning brings a flood of realization: nothing will ever be the same. His birthday is next month. He would have been 58. We feel such a tremendous loss. Even though we knew his illness would eventually take him away from us, we never imagined it would be so soon or so swift. I hope he was able to feel how much we loved him, how blessed we felt to have him as our father, how much the community respected him, and that we will never, ever forget him. I hope he is at rest, in peace. We are missing him just terribly.