I'm so sad that when I talk about it, it hurts. My daddy, I think, was mad at the pain. Chronic pain changes people. I think that he was also depressed. My last hug was tighter than usual and he wouldn't look at us in the face. He would put his head down quickly when we would look at him.
His feet, legs and stomach were swelling and I think that his diabetes made his heart not function properly. He was a short but strong man. At the end he weighed almost 200 pounds. My daddy was a very smart man. And I miss picking up the phone and giving him a call. Oh, I miss my daddy so very much. But, I don't blame him for ending his life. I wouldn't want to hurt either. He never wanted anything to suffer. And he wasn't going to do it either.
My daddy made bowls from wood and he showed me the bowl that he wanted me to put his ashes in. He told me one particular bowl that, "something could go in there." He told me years before that he wished to be cremated. And I did then I put him in the urn he made. The urn was number 11. He was number 11 that night to be picked up. My daddy's mother was 42 when she died. I am 42. His brother died in the same month. Just different years.
Daddy told mom at Christmas last year that would be the last one that we would have together. I think that he knew something was wrong and he would not tell. Very typical of my dad. My daddy died March 28th, 2010. this experience has changed my life forever. My mother and brother found him. They seem to be more altered than me, naturally. I can't figure out where I am with the grieving process. I cry but I don't blame him. I feel sad and quiet. I miss my daddy.