Death With Dignity

Two weeks ago my dad passed and I keep trying to write this rather eloquent and reflective post about the month leading up to his death. But words fail me. Dying is not a dignified act for the living. For the dying maybe but for the rest of us it is lonely and isolating and snot filled. It is both quiet and loud. It's moments spent realizing that no matter how old you are the death of a parent shatters you right down the middle.

When I am able to process the last two months of my life I will cathartically share what losing my dad was and is like. Moreso for myself than anyone else. But until then all I can muster is this: two weeks ago my dad passed and there are equal parts relief that he's no longer suffering and sheer agony that he's gone.