Basically, he died because of some severe burns he received while doing something in his house. He was a fighter to the end, though. He was admitted to the hospital, but I was told he was trying to get out of the bed and come home. He wanted to live. And it just bugs me that the only thing working against him was his age. Had he been younger, he would probably still be here today. But everything happens for reasons only God knows.
Death is a mysterious thing, and if you live long enough, you will experience the death of a loved one. Death is a part of life, and many times it comes unexpected. I've known family friends and members of my old church pass away, but I just felt like this was the first death I experienced in which I was old enough to understand. I was old enough to feel the pain of not having a loved one there. I've heard people say after a loved one dies that they "never go a day without thinking about them." I didn't think that was possible to think about the same person each and every day. But I can honestly say I've thought about my Papa if not every day, every other day and/or several times a week since December 2010.
For most of 2010, he would always tell me that all his buddies were gone. I mean, he was 91 years old. People just don't live that long anymore. He was a very hard-working diligent man. At his age, he was still driving regularly and gardening in the Spring/Summertime. (That's where I got my desire to garden from.) At his funeral, I found out that he was in one of those World Wars. I was amazed, and I wondered why I hadn't known that information before.
I'm glad I gleaned some wisdom from him while he was still alive. I do admit that I took for granted the time he was here. There were so many conversations we had yet to have. He didn't get to meet my husband or see a great-grandchild coming from my womb. But I'm grateful for the time we did share.
Cherish your loved ones; you never know when you will have to go through life without them.
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