I lost my dad at the full age of 89 a few weeks ago. He must have had a slight stroke as his right side was weak and he could no longer walk so we took him to a facility after his hospital stay. We promised he could return home as soon as he could walk again. But in the next two weeks he went down hill and passed away as we sang, “All is Well with my Soul.”
It’s funny how you become attached to little things people do and their bodies though we know they are only our “earth suits” while we are here in this world.
My stepmother mentioned at the visitation that he was no longer here but we are saying goodby to his body. That is so true though by this time his body was freckled, dry and chapped from the numerous hours in the sun from playing baseball and golf. It was still his body, the body I loved and had played many hours of basketball in the court behind our house. I miss his smile and talk of sports, or his asking me to pull up google so he could see his baseball batting average and wins from the time he played. It was amazing he thought that there was a permanent record for all to see of what he accomplished and the clubs and places he served.
A day or two before he passed I think he finally realized he would not be walking again. I knew he could still understand us but he could not communicate except for a nod or smile. One afternoon on my visit he held my hand and squeezed it tightly and I knew my brave, indomitable dad wasn’t going to improve. Was it a squeeze of fear of the unknown or of knowing his time had come and expressing his love? I treasure those things now more than ever.
A few friends from junior high and high school contacted me as a result of my loss and we decided to get together for lunch. Everyone had gone their own ways but when we got together it was just as if we stepped back in time and time stood still and it was the same again. We took turns pouring out the details of our lives and I thought how short a lifespan is really. We didn’t feel any different from the night we cheered our football team on together but it had been 46 years! 
I noticed the girls’ mannerisms. Cheryl ran her hand through her hair to get it to go back rather than to the side. Helen talked with her hands and reached out her arms which were double jointed. I realized I had missed their mannerisms and body gestures. In the midst of my sorrow over my father, I was comforted by these ladies from my past who reached out at just the right time and wrapped their arms around me in an endearing hug. And I knew one day we will say goodby to each of our bodies in our short span here and perhaps miss the most all the quirky things and mannerisms we shared that made us “us”.
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