My father...

I was awakened a little while ago with a phone call from Dr. Tafigh Tabarmanaf of the Burnaby Hospital in Burnaby, British Columbia, to tell me my father died this evening at 8:15 PST.

This was not unexpected. He has been increasingly failing over the last few months, struggling with recurring pneumonia, unconscious and unresponsive for the past few weeks. They phoned me at work today to say they didn't expect him to survive the night.

And he didn't.

My relationship with my father was - 'troubled', I suppose is the best word for it. He was not an easy father to have. But this evening I have felt more at peace with him than I have at any time since early childhood. I've been feeling sad and restless over the course of the evening.... but no longer troubled by the anger or guilt or hurt I had felt about him for decades. He loved me, despite his problems, and I loved him. Despite mine.

My Papa: born January 8, 1919 in Leicester, England; died July 25, 2008 in Burnaby, BC.

Death. Never easy.

Carleton Place...

Spent the afternoon in Carleton Place, going to the Book Gallery with Tasia, Peter, John, Grant, Donna, Jim, Andrea, Hildegarde, Christine, and auriaephiala. Spending time with friends in a relaxing way was just what I needed; I felt sad, but still felt all right.

We had supper at The Leather Works, which had possibly the slowest service I have ever experienced, but was in a pretty location - overlooking the Mississippi River opposite the Carleton Place City Hall.