Three Years

I wish July 27, 2015 was just the day my dad died and not the day I watched my dad die. When my dad died, my first feeling wasn’t grief or sorrow or unbearable sadness but relief because standing for forty minutes around a hospital bed watching somebody gasp themselves to death is horrible and I didn’t want to do it anymore. It still feels like that shouldn’t have been the way that happened. A lot of people had opinions about taking my dad off the ventilator and it was annoying then—friends who had known him a few years, many years, for longer than I had been alive. It was beyond irritating at the time as family for them to offer insistent input. But I see it differently now—at least for tho