Comment: I was 32 when my dad died.

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I was 32 when my dad died.

I was stunned how much a "grown up" like me could suddenly feel like a little lost pup - "Where's my daddy?" The trip home would have worn Odysseus out. My husband was sent to NM for continuing ed, I had come along for fun and we flew on different airlines. We could not get on the same flight out, he could barely get a flight out at all. I flew back to Arkansas, picked up the kids and drove to St. Louis - the closest United could get him to Little Rock OR Cincinnati... picked up my husband, then we drove to Ohio.
But I am really glad I made the trip. All the kids made it back, we hugged and laughed and took a lot of comfort from being together. Turns out it would be the last time my siblings would treat me like family, so I am glad I made it. I hope you come home with some warm memories to help offset the acing back.

This is the article that got my posting privileges revoked: