Yesterday
 was one of bittersweet exhaustion. I spent the day with my Dad, helping
 him sort through his work memorabilia in an effort to compile 
scrapbooks for each grandchild. My Dad has dedicated his life to his 
career and has helped millions through his efforts. In the midst of 
dealing with his diagnosis, he is feeling driven to leave a legacy so 
that the grandkids know that he was more than a man who provided 
adventures and lollipops.
Watching him sort through 
his boxes was difficult, but I knew that it was also cathartic for him. 
There is a peace that comes from reflection, and yesterday I watched 
that peace envelop my Dad. He reminisced with pride about his various 
accomplishments while we sorted through the treasures to select items 
for the scrapbooks.
After the piles were compiled, I 
headed to Kinkos to make copies. Two hours later I left the copy center 
with arms full of my father's accomplishments. It felt strange copying, 
categorizing and sorting all of his milestones.  
After
 the paper portion of the scrapbooks was complete, we moved onto a 
special project. We created a video for each grandchild, documenting his
 love for them as well as discussing the special memories they have 
shared.  He spoke from the heart to each grandchild, telling them of his
 hopes and dreams for each one. The videos were heartfelt and personal. I
 was honored to be trusted to record these messages, but hearing him 
speak to his grandchildren, knowing that he won't physically be there, 
broke my heart. They are incredibly lucky that he loves them so deeply 
to take this time to create a legacy for each one. I have no doubt that 
the scrapbooks, and especially the videos, will be treasured when they 
are presented at each child's high school graduation.
Today
 I head back home. I'm leaving torn because I want to stay with my Dad 
and spend as much time with him as possible. On the other hand I know 
that my sister is coming down and she deserves the same quiet moments 
that I have enjoyed. It will be hard driving away this morning, but I am
 leaving with the promise that I will be back soon. I have to believe 
that I'll be able to see him, talk to him and hug him again or I don't 
think I'd be able to get on that plane.  So, I will keep on believing 
and hoping.

 
 
Peggy...I am in such a similar situation, except I did NOT get to talk to my Dad or anything while he was conscious after his illness began. I was able to spend quiet moments with him in the hospital, and I was blessed to be holding his hand as he passed over. I know that you'll cherish every second you have had and will have with him. I appreciate that you keep us posted; I love reading about your life!
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