my dad's passed yesterday afternoon at 3:30 pm. He had been struggling with long term ailments that were exacerbated by a fall in mid April. My father fought long and hard against these afflictions, getting to the point of a rehabilitation hospital where during his first few days, he managed to walk again, even if for a few short steps. My dad was a fighter, who never backed down from a challenge.
In a strange twist of fate, he passed on in a nursing home. Earlier in life, my dad had remodelled a couple nursing homes and I often saw him bringing things to the residents there, standing for them, and helping them in any way he could, financially and emotionally. It was normal for him to take a Saturday and go to their home to build a ramp for access, re-work a few doors so the chair would fit. This helping out was rewarded in a way as the woman who admitted him remembered this stuff from when she was a nurse and it was her patients he helped out.
now Dad was not flawless, actually far from it but it is funny how you tend to forget that stuff, or choose not to remember, when a person passes
so right now he is waiting for Peter to let him in and on the otherside of the gate is Mom, cast iron frying pan in hand ready to keep the old bastard in line