Today marks the one year anniversary of my dad's death due to brain cancer (glioblastoma). He died the morning of June 4th, 2017 after surviving 3.5 years after being diagnosed. Well beyond the median lifetime for this very aggressive form of cancer. Over this past weekend we completed our local move to a different house. I realized this was the first move in my life without my dad helping, and there have been a lot of moves. Counting my moves to/from college dorms, grad school, our first house, etc., he helped with all 11 of my moves over a time span of just 9 years. We lived at our first house for 12 years so it's been awhile since the last move back in 2006. He was always there to help with those moves, whether it be driving the large moving truck, carrying heavy furniture, helping with costs, or buying food because all of our kitchen stuff was packed!
The move this past weekend was bittersweet knowing he wasn't there to help us with the next home adventure in our life. On one hand I'm glad he wasn't here given the damage the cancer had done to his cognitive abilities. He wasn't the same person anymore and his death last year was more a relief than anything else. On the other hand, I wish he was healthy and still here with us.
No one said life was easy.
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