I thought about losing my Dad recently, somewhat concerned I should be sadder and missing him more.  I thought about his death since my husband died, not just preparing myself for that day, but predicting my sadness for him would not come close to that of losing my husband; my best friend.  We never lived too far away, we saw each other as often as we could, but I was more interested in making a new life with my husband and then my children.  It’s been 42 years since he stopped being my Dad, in the take care of me sense of the word.  Unlike my relationship with my husband, my Dad never became my friend, for being a Dad was what he wanted forever and always.  Being alone was the most difficult part of losing my husband and losing my Dad hasn’t made me more so.  I know now that every other death I’ll face throughout my life will be weighed against my husband’s.  Some have, and many will, come up short.  As for the rest, those with the ability to far exceed, may I never, in my lifetime, have to find the strength to bear that enormous weight.


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