A picture is worth 365,000 words

Today's post is not the most cheery. Today is Veteran's Day and it is the 20th anniversary of my father passing away. I was 13 years old when he passed on. I was in 7th grade and honestly had no idea. Well, that's not entirely true. My father had been sick since I was 4 months old, that's when he had his first heart attack. He had 3 more before he passed on and quadruple by-pass surgery 2 years before he passed on. Just before he passed on, he had been really bad. He went into the hospital in mid-September and didn't come out again until Nov. 9th. He was in the ICU the entire time, which limited the time we got to see him. He was released on the 9th and came home. On Friday, Nov. 11, 1988, just before I went to school, my parents said they were taking my dad to the hospital as he wasn't feeling well. I left for school. I came home regular time, about 2:45 p.m. and saw my Grandparent's car in the drive way. I was really excited and started running down the street. Then about 2 houses away from my house, I stopped because it dawned on me that at close to 3:00 p.m. in the afternoon, my Grandparent's should NOT have been there. I walked slowly to the house. When I walked in, my Grandparent's, Uncle David, and mom were in the living room. I was sat down and said that my dad's heart stopped working while they were in the Emergency Room. He passed away about 8:30 a.m. She thought it was best not to take me out of school, that I would find out soon enough.

It's been a rough day. 20 years is a long time. It's amazing how fast time goes by. There are days when it seems like yesterday, like today. And other days that it's so not apart of my life. So, today's entry not so cheerful.