Absence

Apologies for the abrupt interruption of blogging. On June 26, my father died.

He was in a great deal of pain the night before, and in the early hours of the morning decided that he needed to get medical attention. With my mother at his side, he drove himself to the hospital. He suffered a heart attack in the emergency room and died.

Dad always did everything for himself and seldom asked for help. He celebrated his sixtieth wedding anniversary on March eighth of this year. He was seventy-eight years old.

Blogging is likely to be light as I sort things out.

The photograph of him at the top of this entry was taken around twenty-five years ago. Other than the loss of his perennial tan, he looked much the same when I last saw him on Monday at his funeral. But he wasn’t smiling.

23 thoughts on “Absence”

  1. At times like this, words seem to lie flat on the page, Jeff.
    Still, I’ll be thinking of you.

  2. When this page opened in my browser it showed only the photograph. I smiled back, immediately engaged. I took a good time looking. Then I was impatient for the words, scrolled down and was dismayed by the shock of loss.
    Take care.

  3. Hanging onto you (and your Dad) in prayer.
    You know where to find us if there’s anythign we can do.

  4. My condolences, Jeff
    And thank you for the picture and sentence/s of your
    Fathers last day. That is remarkable. Wish peace and
    all else, bye now Chris

  5. p.s. And now I wonder what he was thinking as he regarded
    your lens 25 years ago. It looks as if you might know.
    Exactly. I would not intrude by asking, most especially
    now. Just to say, this is what your portrait suggests to me.

  6. p.s. And now I wonder what he was thinking as he regarded
    your lens 25 years ago. It looks as if you might know.
    Exactly. I would not intrude by asking, most especially
    now. Just to say, this is what your portrait suggests to me.

  7. Jeff, I am sorry to read of the the unexpected passing of your father. Take care.
    MaryAnn

  8. My condolences to you on your loss. I hope that you will find comfort in your family and in remembering good things about your father. It’s a strange, surreal time, but if you ever need to chat with someone who has been there, please do write.

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