That Thin Line

My father passed away yesterday at 12:30 pm. Life support was removed at 12:23 so he was on his own for seven minutes. The hospital staff was beyond gracious. They kept Dad comfortable and pain free as he crossed that thin line between here and there. The three most important women in his life were by his side, his wife of 22 years, my sister and me.

There is a very thin line between life and death. I witnessed that yesterday. We take for granted the abilities of our body to work as it was designed. We take for granted the nutrition found in the food we eat, the water needed for every bodily function beginning at the cellular level, and the clean air we need to oxygenate our blood. Without any one of these, we cross that thin line.

Sometimes we walk that line; challenging it, testing it, teasing it. We don’t realize the fragility of the body and spirit. We were designed in such a way that our bodies will fight its hardest to survive. But sometimes that’s simply not enough anymore.

My dad wasn’t ready to go. He was looking forward to a big 80th birthday celebration in October. But things don’t always go according to our own plans. From a distance, that line appears to be quite broad, but the reality of it is, it’s a very thin line between here and there.

My heart is in pain. My eyes burn from endless tears. My body aches from fatigue. And I want to go home. I have much to sort out, reflect upon, and think about. Life is so very short. And that line between here and there is even thinner than I ever imagined.

I miss my dad. 💔

Andi