My father died just days before his birthday. He always loved silly gifts and pranks–I keep seeing the “perfect gift” ideas for him in the weeks before his birthday.

I miss calling him to hear him rattle on about politics and playing his guitar. I cried when I got a promotion at work and couldn’t call him to share my news so he could celebrate with me. No matter what, he was always my biggest supporter and when hard times came he reminded me that “this too shall pass.”

He always had multiple projects going at once–learning to play guitar, woodworking projects, house projects, a new book, or landscaping projects. He left so many projects unfinished, and we continue to find more unfinished projects as we go. He had so many plans and ideas, and he will never be able to finish them.

He left so us suddenly. He was sick, then in the hospital, then better and released to go home. Then, he suddenly got worse. I begged and screamed at him that he needed to go back to the hospital. He finally relented and said he would go, but didn’t make it out the door and died at home as he was putting his shoes on to go to the ER. The paramedics did their best but weren’t able to revive him.

My last words to him were to tell him to go to the hospital, and his last words to me were “I guess I’m not progressing quite the way I should be.”