That's Life

My Dad loved Frank Sinatra and he hated Larry King. But never more so then in the last few months of his life. We knew he was dying, he needed full time care and my Mom couldn't do it alone. He wanted to be home, not tucked away in some nursing home. A nursing home wouldn't know that he loved Sinatra and hated Larry King. So I left my young family, temporarily, (they were actually only a 1/2 hour away any way) and I movied in with my Mom and Dad.

I have to say this decision was one of the best decisions I had ever made. Those last few months with my Dad were some of the most precious times of my life. If there's such a thing as perfection in dying, this was it. We spent hours talking, waching TV, and of course listening to Frank. (My hubby made him the most awsome long playing tape, filled to the brim with beloved hits) My Dad and I were always close, so much alike, and, well he just got me. And I got him. And in these final days, that closeness, transended to a friendship to last the ages.

Towards the very end, he would see his Mom, his beloved brother, the other members of his family and friends who had long since past away. He told me they were telling him what awaited him beyond that door, that door, most of us fear. I remember walking into the room a couple days before he died, because I heard him talking and laughing. I know beyond a shawdow of a doubt that I walked in on a party. A welcome home party, Irish style,  that his friends and family were throwing for him. I literally got goose bumps when I walked in that room. I was surrounded by my ancesters and it made me happy that they were there to guide him on his final journey.

The day he died, Larry King was on my Dad's radio in the morning. He was so angry with me. He was not thinking clearly, and just knew I had come in and turned the dial on purpose. And I, with my feelings hurt decided to go home for a bit, get a much needed hug from my husband and spend some time with my beautiful children. I wept and vented and in general felt better. I pulled my self together, went back to my parents house, to find that my Dad had been asking for me and waiting for me to get back.

I was a little afraid he was waiting to yell at me some more about the Larry King debacle. But that wasn't the case. He was waiting to apologize for hurting me (his baby). He was very lucid and very much the Dad I had known and always loved. He told me he loved me and that everything would be alright. He said he waited for me to get back. Than he said he needed to take a nap. He slipped into a coma and died that evening.

When ever I hear That's Life, well, whenever I hear anything by Frank Sinatra I think about my beloved Father and how he waited for me to come back. His last gift to me. Thanks Dad.