My father pass away at about 4:45 this morning (Saturday January 20). We'd been with him until about 1:30, Lori, mom, and I, and went home when it seemed like he was okay. He was sleeping calmly, waking occasionally as we talked or jostled him around, and seemed okay. Mom got the call and called me so I was there to sit with him since about 5:30 as all the business around such things occurs. He'd had dementia for quite some time and has been in the nursing home for two years less a couple weeks. Mom has been here almost every day. I visit often, even though I can't even remember that last time he spoke my name. I guess I've been a familiar face. We'd sit together. I'd tell him about whatever is going on in my life or the world. Conversations had become increasingly one-sided as it's been ages since he could talk about his years working in the Auditor General's Office, or playing hockey in college for the Brandon Wheat Kings, or playing cards or having a nice drink of rum. He did seem to enjoy watching people around him and he would point to things or situations that amused him. He enjoyed eating, which one could hardly believe since he'd lost so much weight. He'd always eat his meals and find room for chocolates or cookies or other sweet stuff. Small pleasures. He's 90 and it was his time. Goodbye dad.
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