Now for the Hard Part

I was able to take advantage of a few more hours with Dad and family today. He slept OK through the night but had some pain medication this morning that made him pretty sleepy. So despite the fact he had more than a dozen visitors throughout the day, there wasn't a lot of quality conversation going on.

His brother Hartley and sister-in-law Alice stopped by today, fresh from their wintering in Florida. Dad obviously has lost his Texas tan. The contrast with his young brother made him seem even older!

Yesterday, among the multitudes, Dad was visited by his two great-grandsons in Minnesota. Today he got to Skype with his two great-grandsons in South Dakota. Amazing what modern technology can do these days!

His other visitors today included 5 of his daughters, 3 grown grandsons and my "twin" for the day, my nephew Travis, who races four-wheelers in Minnesota. I'm his #1 fan! (And wow, decidedly shorter than him!)

My departure plan was to hit the road at 2 p.m. so I could get home while it was still light out. I am glad I stuck to that because it forced me to do what I had to do.

What I have learned in my semi-state of denial here is that if I don't type something "out loud" or say it out loud, it's not true yet (in my mind) and I don't have to deal with it. It takes courage. I don't always have enough. But sometimes you just go with what you got and move forward.

So I am typing the hard part first... The reason I went up there to say goodbye is because after Dad had a heart attack Friday, the doctor said he's got 1-2 weeks to live. There it is in black and white.

His heart is too weak to last long. At this point, it's more dangerous to try to do anything for him than to let him ride it out. For as long as he can. Maybe he'll surprise us all and be here in 6 months. But that would be a miracle. And while I believe in them, I am trying to be realistic here. So his time is running out. Hard to say that/type that because, well, now I am admitting it's true.

I wish it wasn't, but it is.

Now for the speaking part. Way harder. Saying "goodbye" out loud was heart wrenching. The writer in me can't even think of an adjective strong enough to describe my despair.

I said goodbye to all my other family members there first because I knew, after my final words with Dad, I would need to walk straight out of there and not look back. When it came to Dad, we had a few words, a lot of I love yous and a really long, hard hug with me bawling loudly in his ear while he patted my back and tried to comfort me. I cried telling him I wasn't ready to let him go. To say goodbye. But when I was done. I stared him in his teeny little Hedberg eyes in order to memorize his face, kissed him and let go of his hands.

Then let him go.

I was pretty distraught for the first hour of the drive home but managed to bring it under control and concentrate on driving so I wouldn't put anyone on the road in danger.

I felt at peace, though, about what had to be said "out loud" and what I had to do. My heart may be in pieces, but it is at peace.

I hope Dad's is, too. He is surrounded by so much love, it has to be.