My Dad passed away on May 7th in the afternoon. My sister had called me the day before and told me that Dad was struggling to breath and on lots of pain meds. I got my work prepared as best I could and went home thinking she'd call me in the middle of the night with the bad news. No call, so I went to work. She called me after lunch and told me Dad was gone. Even though I was prepared I wasn't prepared. I still cried and felt overwhelming grief that I would never again hear my Dad call my name and never see him again except in my dreams, memories and pictures. But in true Dad fashion, he died just when J was finishing up a section of training so he could be with me at the funeral and we could be with my Mom on Mother's Day. I haven't spent Mother's Day with my Mom since I've been married and living in IL. The funeral was at the cemetery. We didn't have any service at the funeral home. It was a short service and a few cousins came out to pay their respects. Why is it that funerals seem to be the only way we all get together? Anyway, I'm finally home and exhausted. Dad, was 83 years old and married to my Mom for 54 years. Daddy, I miss you and love you. See you again someday.