Death

Well, my dad died this morning after a 15-month battle against small cell lung cancer. We knew the diagnosis was terminal and were very blessed to have him around for this long (the docs gave him 4-12 months, depending on treatment). He was 86. It's a lesson for smokers, though. He had the habit for nearly 50 years, but quit 25 years ago. If he hadn't quit then, he probably would've died 20 years ago. Amazing the body's regenerative capacity. My half-brother, also a smoker, died of the same type of cancer in 1996. He was about 50 at that time, I think. No idea when this photo of dad was taken, but he was sure handsome!




Anyway, the grief really hasn't set in. I'm sure it'll hit me like a tidal wave when I see a picture of us or remember a funny moment or think of our goodbye. In the meantime, I'm thankful for a deferred heartbreak.