After my MRI instead of heading home, we drove in the opposite direction. Chris had a nagging sense that he needed to see his father. It was a good but hard visit. Good in that we chatted, told stories, shared my good news, showed him silly pictures of the dogs and boys on the cell phone. Hard because Mike wasn't doing well and wanted to discuss what needed to happen when he died.
September 9th, 2012 in the early morning hours that still seem like night, my father-in-law passed. He'd been in poor health for a number of years - heart attacks, yes plural, congestive heart failure as a result, a stroke, diabetes and many infections. Our loss wasn't unexpected. Still he'd survived countless operations doctors warned he wouldn't and so despite logic the family almost came to believe he'd continue to defy the odds, almost.
Reaction to my good MRI is muted, we're pleased but can't muster enthusiasm. When something cool or funny or maddening happens, the thought - hey I need to call Dad, share this - still runs through Chris' head - then he remembers he can't.
That finality is hard.
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