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A time of peace.





It was 8 years ago that my Dad passed away from cancer.

I'll never forget the day that he left us.  December 14th, 2006.

After months and months of pain and suffering, it was inevitable that my Dad was not going to survive this horrible disease.  Not only had the cancer taken away his energy, his muscle tone and his strength....but it had taken away something worse.  His spirit.  

His last week was spent in the palliative care ward in the hospital and there wasn't a moment that he was left alone.  

In the last few days of his life I had grown numb.  I knew what was happening and I didn't really want to face it, so I had blocked off my own emotions in order to look strong and happy whenever my Dad laid his eyes on me.

We had slept in my Dad's hospital room almost every night for that last week.  We made beds by putting the lounge chairs together.  Our discomfort was nothing in comparison to what my father had been going through for the last few months, so we didn't complain.  But we also couldn't sleep.

But one night, miraculously, we all fell asleep.  

And I had somehow sunk into the deepest slumber I had ever gone into.  

It took several attempts from a nurse to wake me a couple of hours later. I opened my eyes and she sat quietly to give me a few seconds to get my bearings. 

When she saw that I knew where I was and that I was coherent enough to understand what she was going to say, she whispered,

"Your father has passed.  I'm so sorry".

I looked up at the clock in the room.  

12:04


I didn't know what to say.  

I mean, there really is nothing to say when your world suddenly stops.


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To this day I wonder why my Dad was taken from us so early.  

He was the healthiest man I knew.  He played tennis everyday, he was in amazing shape, and his diet consisted mainly of fruits and vegetables.  

And he lived for his family.



I am a girl who believes in fate, and believes that everything happens for a reason.  But a loved one's death is one thing that my heart and mind struggle with all the time. 




I think of my Dad very, very often. 

And even though he has been gone for 8 years, he is still so present in our family.  For just recently I have caught glimpses of him in my sister, my brother, my mom, my aunt and my children.  And every night when I strip off all the makeup and foundation, I look into the very same eyes that I inherited from my Dad.  An eye-color that my Aunt once described as "not beautiful blue like your Moder's eyes but grey like your Fadder's" :)


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Last Sunday I couldn't get to sleep.  

Of course I couldn't....it was December 14th. 

I did everything I could to avoid going to bed and being alone with my thoughts.  I watched a movie, I did a load of laundry, and I read my book.  


It was already much later than when I would normally go to bed, so I turned off the light and tried to force myself to sleep.

But I couldn't.  My head was spinning with thoughts of those last hours in the hospital with my Dad. I was feeling so many mixed emotions.  Sadness, anger, frustration......everything was eating me up inside.  

How would I get through the night?

I flipped over in bed once more and did what I try never to do when I can't get to sleep.  I opened my eyes and looked at the time.  

And there, staring back at me, was a time that was permanently engrained in my mind....

12:04


My head dropped back down to the pillow, and almost immediately, peace washed over me.


And I instantly fell asleep.




I may never know why my Dad was taken from me so early.  

But I will feel a sense of peace knowing that he is in a better place.



And that he is always watching over me.











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