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carolkuk

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I felt the pulse of the sirens.  Each deafening pulse became my own as we raced to the E.R.  I followed the ambulance to the first red light.  I saw the road part as my dad's lifeless body, encased in metal, light and sound ripped through my childhood territory.  I was stopped.  I was encased in memory and moment.  A toddler hanging onto his stroller waved a green and yellow catapillar taunting my red light status. Leaves falling onto my windshield.  Leaves, beautiful leaves, boasting. I couldn't breath.  The moment began breathing for me, took over, and never stopped.
 
A nurse handed me two clear plastic bags.  Crisp baby blue shirt. My Father's Day gift, an Emanuel Ungaro tie whimsically hanging over the frenetically pulled opening.  No pants.  One handkerchief.  A Navy blue double breasted blazer. One pair of Hanes bottom and top.  He remained a gentleman. He left putting on his pants.  I found them, and his belt. And a half pulled sock hanging from his pant leg. He had every intention of going to work at 83.  At the Chicago Board of Trade.  
 
He had a stroke.  The doctor's said he would "make it."  And he did. 
 
And then he didn't.
Nicky

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I'm so sorry, Carol!
ali

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Carol, you painted a very clear picture of what happened that day in just a few words. The death of a parent is so very difficult. 
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Pinkie

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That's powerful writing, and so sad. I'm so sorry you had to go through this and I know how it feels. How recently did this occur?  The demise of a parent hits one so very hard and one's life becomes a wild roller coaster of feelings and being flooded with memories. Someday the memories will make you smile more than cry. They are to be treasured and cherished. I told myself sometimes that Daddy would much rather he have gone on to the other side first, not see any of us depart before him. I suppose Mama would have felt that way, at least sometime. 
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Joyce

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Quote:
Originally Posted by carolkuk
I felt the pulse of the sirens.  Each deafening pulse became my own as we raced to the E.R.  I followed the ambulance to the first red light.  I saw the road part as my dad's lifeless body, encased in metal, light and sound ripped through my childhood territory.  I was stopped.  I was encased in memory and moment.  A toddler hanging onto his stroller waved a green and yellow catapillar taunting my red light status. Leaves falling onto my windshield.  Leaves, beautiful leaves, boasting. I couldn't breath.  The moment began breathing for me, took over, and never stopped.
 
A nurse handed me two clear plastic bags.  Crisp baby blue shirt. My Father's Day gift, an Emanuel Ungaro tie whimsically hanging over the frenetically pulled opening.  No pants.  One handkerchief.  A Navy blue double breasted blazer. One pair of Hanes bottom and top.  He remained a gentleman. He left putting on his pants.  I found them, and his belt. And a half pulled sock hanging from his pant leg. He had every intention of going to work at 83.  At the Chicago Board of Trade.  
 
He had a stroke.  The doctor's said he would "make it."  And he did. 
 
And then he didn't.

((((Carol)))))

I am so sorry for your loss Sweetheart. I also have experienced Great loss and understand this pain. You write and Express yourself beautifully. If I saw you in person, I would hug you.
My love and prayers are coming your way ❤❤❤😇😇😇

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