It has been almost three whole days since you died. Looking back at the five days you spent home on hospice, replaying each moment, I have come to understand some important things about those days.

First, time felt suspended. I have never felt something so surreal. I was looking at my watch often waiting for time to pass, and yet, finishing the day weary from sitting watching you.

Second, physically my body was showing signs of stress I had never felt before. My nerves were so raw it felt like they were vibrating, like a restless leg syndrome, but all over my body. And, my eyes were so wet with tears that I literally felt dehydrated from crying.

Thirdly, I know you made it home for us. After spending 10 weeks in hospitals and rehabilitation centers, you made it home to die. Seeing you for those five days, I know that wasn’t an easy task. You endured so much pain and you struggled through strokes and bed sores to die at home. You were a true gentleman to the end, giving us the closure we needed to say goodbye despite the enormous amount of pain you were in.

Now that you are gone I know the truth about losing a parent. It is an ache. An ache for conversations had and conversations hoped for. An ache to relive moments with you and a sadness for moments you will never see.

Now that you are gone, I pray to find you in my dreams and in nature, to hear you in music that you loved so much and through the smiles of my children.

Now that you are gone I never realized how much I would miss you.