7 years ago my Dad passed away. Only 3 months passed from the time I heard of his diagnosis to the moment of his death. Pancreatic cancer is a cruel and gruesome way to die.
I look back on that time and my heart breaks. I'm grateful that I was able to spend so much time with him during his final weeks. Caring for somebody in their final days is a privilege that I never fully understood until I had the honor. Although I will never forget those weeks, that time is not what I remember when I think of my Dad.
His memory remains alive and strong with the kids. The Cousin Crew loves nothing more than hearing Candy Papaw stories. They squeal with giggles and laughter with every story, even when they have already heard them a hundred times. I am sad that remembering new stories is becoming increasingly difficult. Every fresh tidbit feels like gold that has been mined from my childhood.
I love that his memory is so strong with his grandchildren. Timmy will have no direct memories with my Dad, but he talks about his Candy Papaw as if he knew him well. I know that my Dad would be so proud of all of the grandkids, and I am sure he is smiling down upon them.
My Dad always encouraged me to be the person to bring treats into the office. He swore that "the person who brings the donuts is always the last one to be thrown under the bus." Last night, in honor of my Dad, Timmy helped me bake cookies for Scott to take to school.
I love you Dad. I miss you. I hope you are proud.
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