Late yesterday, we were enjoying the after-Christmas sales when our lives took a radical and unexpected turn.
Mom became suspicious when Daddy didn't answer his phone, and became alarmed when she realized that he hadn't answered calls from me and my sisters, either. Aly's boyfriend was the first to arrive at the farm where Daddy had gone to work. He found Daddy's body almost immediately. I will be forever grateful to him for staying with my Daddy in the cold, pouring rain. He stayed until the emergency workers arrived. Daddy however, did not. He was long gone before any of us realized something was amiss.
I know there are sayings about dying "in the saddle" or "with his boots on" - those would never have been appropriate for him. Daddy died with his shovel in his hands, doing exactly what he wanted to do, on the farm he loved. I hurt for my loss, for my mother, my sisters, his grandchildren (especially the ones who will have to be told about him rather than know him well themselves), and everyone else who knew and loved him. But I could not be more thankful for the way Daddy died. I just wish it hadn't come so soon.
tlm
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