Today marks the third anniversary of my mother's death. She passed away on January 16, 2019, in a hospital. She just turned 91.
This year will make 11 years since my father passed away. Naturally, I miss both of my parents, but as I mentioned in an earlier blog, I am glad they are both gone.
The world spent all of 2020 and 2021 in a pandemic. We will probably spend all of 2022 and 2023 with the coronavirus. Had either of my parents stayed alive I would be worried about them catching it. If they had to be in a nursing facility, I wouldn't have seen them on top of being worried about the hundreds of people in that circle. Had they stayed with me I would have had to take extra care of myself to avoid getting it and being sick myself or transmitting it to them. Mom lived in Florida for a while. In addition to how their republican governor handles the pandemic, I would have had to travel to the "sunshine state" almost every month.
With the exception of the initial shock, I never trip off death. As a Christian and a believer of God, I firmly believe everything is his will. They both lived to be over 80, plus I had a father for 46 years and a mother for over 50. And I am humble enough to be grateful.
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