My dad was a difficult man at times. He was hard headed. Set in his ways. Didn't like change. Believe his way was the right way and most the time he was right. He was my rock. As a child, I was never afraid to jump off the "cliff". I knew he would always be there to catch me. However, his death has rocked my world. It has left a scar on my heart. The scar that may fade but it will always be there. He would call me on the phone, and say "Michelle, this is your daddy". Like in my 53 years, I wouldn't recognize his voice. I will never forget the sound of his voice. I can still hear it in my head and in my heart.

My dad was a caring husband, father and grandfather. He worked hard his whole life. I learned my work ethics and determination from my father. He had a great sense of humor. He had an uncanny ability to fix anything and build anything. He was my Siri, before there was a Siri.

My dad decided that he want to die at home surrounded by his family in a place that he loved with my mother. We knew he was dying for weeks and had time to prepare, but nothing really prepared me in the end. A year before his death, I had conversations with him and he made me promise things that I intend to keep.

Grief doesn't begin the day a terminally ill person dies. I have been grieving my dad for the last 6 months. The day he died, I was at his bedside with my mother when he took his last breath and yet nothing prepared me for this loss. I was there to kiss his check, hold his hand, sing to him and to say goodbye. I held his hand for the last time trying to take that feeling with me because I knew I would never feel my father's hand in mine again.

There is no hierarchy of pain, that pain is pain and it is not a contest. Mom, I can't make this less painful for you. But remember when you feel this pain, it comes from a place of having loved and having been loved deeply by this man. I love you Daddy, forever and a day. That is what he would tell me. I just wished I had the forever today.