One month. One month ago I was sitting at home on my yoga mat preparing a music playlist for my class and my brother called.
“You need to come home Roz.” His voice cracked, “It’s time.”
It’s a blur after that.
A call to Michael, searching for a flight, packing, waiting, worrying, crying into Penny’s fur, laying down for an hour that felt useless, a four hour drive to Denver in the middle of the night. Michael told me to put my seat back and try to get some sleep.
‘Rhiannon’ came on the radio, by Dad’s favorite band, Fleetwood Mac and I knew it was his way of telling me not to worry.
“Just hold on Daddy. Hold on. I’m coming.” I said it over and over in my head until I lulled myself to sleep.
My phone buzzed in my pocket at 3:45am.
He couldn’t hold on. His body was too weak.
I didn’t make it to hold his hand and say goodbye.
But I know he tried to wait for me. I know he tried so hard. A day later, my family would hand me the dry erase board he was using to communicate at the hospital, on which he had written, “Wait for Roz.”
He initialed it A.J.Y which makes me smile.
The most beautiful sunrise I’ve ever seen painted the sky that morning as the plane took off and I cried for my Daddy in my window seat above the clouds. He loved flying.
Maybe that’s where he wanted to say goodbye to me.
Up there in the peaceful morning sky.
Rest now, Daddy. I love you.