Tuesday night my father passed away. That’s it. He was rushed in by ambulance one week prior, with a heart racing and a hard time breathing. The diagnosis: congestive heart failure and fluids in his lunges.

Me and F visited him straight way and other than being tired he was him self. Made jokes with the nurses, watched TV and being very appreciative to the staff caring for him from the ambulance to the ward. On Saturday he’d changed. Slightly confused, unclear speech but foremost the light in his eyes was gone and he gazed into space. He’d aged 10 years in 24 hours. From there on it got slightly worse each day. With a small improvement on Tuesday morning.

I went in Tuesday evening and sat by his side, holding his hand, stroking his forehead, telling him what a wonderful father and outstanding grandparent he’d been. That I and the boys loved him so, so much. He said he was so tired, and I told him that he should rest.

Two hours after I left, mum called and told me it was over.
Älskade pappa ❤️.

He had his sides, like we all do and like all relationships it was a trail. We were two different generations and two different genders. We lived in the same world with different expectations, dreams and possibilities. He (together with mum) did his outmost to cater for my. But it was never complex. I knew where I had him, to the point that I could at time parry to avoid minor eruptions alternative bring in mum soften the blow 😀.

But most importantly I knew that he loved me (and my sister) and that I always, always could count on him. “Problems exist to be solved” he used to say. There were nothing more important to him than his two girls. I found this post about him from 2014, which sums him up quite well.

Although the process of his passing went quickly. This is how he wanted it. He would not like to be more dead than alive in a nursing home. He didn’t have to suffer and above all we all got to say our farewells. I do believe he went in peace, happy with what he had created and achieved. But boy will I miss him.