For more than three years, as my father’s Parkinson’s got worse and my visits to Florida to help take care of him became more regular and more challenging, I began writing a eulogy for him in my head. I had all the words and all the stories queued up and ready to go.
And then, when he actually passed away last week, and I had to put fingers to keyboard, I didn’t know what to say.
Despite all the time I spent with my dad this year and in the years prior, even with all the great memories I had to look back on, the words wouldn’t come. I was just at a loss. In so many ways.
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Martin's Musings 