What can a little card mean?

A lot. This is a lesson we have learned after the death of Dan's dad. Everyday, we have been recieving sympathy cards sometimes from people we hardly know. The words written inside are a comfort especially the personal notes. I, myself, am terrible at sending cards. I tend to be a procrastinator, finally deciding it has been to long why bother? Now, I know why, and I will be better, because I truly know the value of that little piece of paper and a short personal note.

Husband, father, grandfather and friend.

Thanks for checking back. We have had a very rough summer so far. Starting Memorial day weekend Dan's dad has been in and out of the hospital with problems arising from his colitis and a blood disorder which causes his blood to clot excessively. Well, because he had to be on blood thinners for the blood disorder he bled more from the colitis. So he had been in and out of the hospital, getting transfusions as needed. Finally he had just lost to much blood and he went into shock. He passed away on Friday June 29th at about 9:30 am. It was a complete shock, he had been accepted to U of M to get a second opinion about having his colon removed and for consultation about his blood disorder, we were just waiting for a bed. At no time until about 10 hrs before died did we think death was even a consideration.

Fortunately, while we hugely greive the loss of this awesome husband, father, grandfather and friend, we know that he would not have wanted to suffer. He lived a life that outlined the way every christian should live. He was kind to everyone, no matter what. He would give anyone, anything, if it would help them, no matter what. He loved his family, even those of us who married into it, no matter what. You never wondered where you stood with dad, he always told us he loved us and gave us hugs everytime we parted ways. He was totally devoted to his grandchildren, taking time to answer any question, even those asked multiple times. He never got frustrated with them. I have even witnessed him sitting on the floor in Em's room and playing Barbies or babysitter or whatever other make-believe game she wanted to play. At 70 yrs old he rarely told them no.

I learned a great deal from him as well. While my relationship with my father was rocky while I was growing up, my husbands dad was always his best friend. Don loved me unconditionally form the moment, things became serious between us. He has always treated me like I was one of his own. In his death, he has given me the ability to forgive my dad. Finally, I realize that these little grudges just aren't worth it. You never know how long you have.

So, now, we are all trying a little harder to love unconditionally, give as much as possible, work hard, be forgiving, and to seriously not sweat the small stuff. Thanks Don for everything you have given to us. Thanks God for the gift of Don.