Death

Watching someone die is awful. Not in a psychopath-thriller kind of way, but in a prolonged agony and torture. My Dad has fought off Death for years, but in May, we knew it was coming. So we waited. It sucked.

My Dad was a fierce, smart, and proud man. Honor by his own code (one that many Askren’s share) and lived life the way he wanted. My Dad was the meaning of family, an embodiment of the term. As much as it pained him at times to watch us suffer and make mistakes, he let us. He lived for his children and grandchildren. And he was there when we failed, doing whatever he could, whenever he could. He was a real Dad, a real Man, and that meant family is everything.

I know he’s in a better place, I know he’s out of pain and no longer suffering. I know all this, but I already miss him and hurt that he’s no longer part of this world. I felt Death come into the house, I know the moment it came. I closed my eyes and asked Death for mercy, to do it’s job without vengeance, because my Dad paid his dues in this life, he didn’t need to pay for the after-life.

I have been grieving for months, watching this man decay in the body this life gives. Today, I toast him, a shot of whiskey in the Askren way.

I love you Dad, always. Thank you for everything.