It's been a long month.  Daddy went into the hospital shortly after his birthday.  We tried everything.  He had valve replacement surgery at Barnes-Jewish in St. Louis, even.  He survived that, even though the doctors didn't think he would.  My daddy was always a fighter. 

When we got the call from the doctor that they would need to amputate his left leg if we were to continue life saving measures, we all knew.  If Daddy survived that, he would chew all of our asses for doing that to him.  It was no way of life for a hard worker like my dad. 

So we made the choice.  We gave our dad his dignity.  Those of that chose to be in the room with him sat around after the transition off the machines, talking about memories from childhood.  We laughed, we spoke with pride.  Our dad was a good man who taught us not through words but through actions.  Right when we ran out of memories we were willing to share, he gave up the fight.  He went peacefully, with his pride and his dignity, and his body, still intact.

I love you Daddy.  That will never ever change.  It will be hard not being able to see you.  Not looking into those beautiful ble eyes again.  Not being able to pick up the phone at lunch time and give you a call.  But you were greeted with open arms by your mom and dad, and I know you will be there waiting on me when I arrive.  Go in peace Daddy.  Go in peace.

I love you.