08/17/2026
I lost my dad last night, with his head resting in my arms.
Losing my dad has probably been one of my biggest fears for as long as I can remember. He was the rock of our family. I have never met a man who was more wonderful, more patient, more loyal, or more loving. In my eyes, my dad was perfect.
We were so close. Even after Alzheimer’s dementia took so much from him, it never took away the connection between us. He was still so present with me. We had wonderful conversations, we laughed so much, and somehow, through all of it, he continued to teach me. He was so funny.
Taking care of my dad taught me more than I ever could have imagined. He taught me about patience, strength, loyalty, love, work ethic and what it means to simply be there for someone. He was the best listener. He was stoic and steady, and he was always an example of the kind of person I continue to strive for as our age.
My dad and my mom were together for 75 years. All those years of loving, living, raising a family, and walking through life side by side. My heart breaks for my mom. Today she said, “Half of me is gone.” I worry about her because I know how much of her life was wrapped up in him. To watch him protect her was beautiful. Some men just like sassy women.
And my dad fought to the very end.
There were moments when he would stop breathing for what seemed like an eternity—sometimes up to 5 minutes. We would wait, wondering if that was it. Then he would take another breath and come back to us.
The hospice nurse, who has been a hospice nurse for 25 years, told me she had never witnessed anything quite like it happening so many times with one person. She said there had been only two times in her career when she thought someone had passed and they came back (but they would only come back once). My dad did it at least 4-5 times.
The final time, we waited for 10 minutes.
I don’t believe he was ready to go. He loved life. He was optimistic and always found something to do, even if it was as simple as people watching . But I also know my dad’s heart. I know his loyalty. And I can’t help but believe that, somewhere in those final moments, he knew my mom needed him to stay as long as he possibly could.
I already knew my dad was an anomaly. But hearing a 25-year hospice nurse say it made me realize just how extraordinary he really was. Not many people his age survive 3 surgeries in 6 month period. He surpassed every baseline a physician discussed with me.
Today, I am filled with emotions. I still can’t believe he’s gone. My mind keeps going back to all the things we will never get to do again. We had some routines.
Memories and thoughts flood- That was the last time we did this. That was the last time we laugh. That was the last conversation.
That was the last hug.
That was the last time I heard his voice.
There are so many “lasts” that I didn’t know were lasts.
And yet, underneath all of the heartbreak, I feel incredibly grateful.
Grateful that I got to be his daughter.
Grateful that I got to care for him.
Grateful for every conversation, every laugh, every smile (his was the best), every look, every moment.
And most of all, grateful that when he left this world, he was not alone.
He was in my arms.🥰
Dad, you were the best man I have ever known. You were the heart of our family, and you will forever be the greatest examples of love and goodness in my life.
Tuffy Roark rest high on that Mountain—go enjoy all those trees. ❤️
And you’re probably going to get inundated with pictures of my dad eventually. I have a lifetime of them, and I’m going to want to share them. Because there is just so much of him to remember.
