My dad passed away on August 29th. There was just too much wrong with him, and he didn't want to be hooked up to machines. On Wednesday he pulled everything out himself, after my family talked to his doctors about it. My dad knew what was going on then, and knew he wouldn't live without the machines, and made that choice for himself. He lived approximately 28 more hours.
Everyone thinks he was trying to hold on so long so he wouldn't die on my birthday. He almost made it. There was less than one hour left of my birthday when he died. It was peaceful, though, and he wasn't in pain. My mom, my sisters and I were all in the room with him.
They moved him out of the ICU after he pulled everything out, so Elliott was able to come in and tell him good bye, while my dad still understood what was going on. Elliott was able to tell him how much he loved him, and how he was the best grandpa anyone could ever have.
Everyone was able to make peace with it, and Dad knew we all loved him. We are still having an incredibly hard time with it, of course, but we are glad he isn't in pain anymore.
Leaving my mom to head back to North Dakota was by far the hardest thing I've ever done. I think it was the first time she had cried when I left since the first time I did it after Carl and I got married in 2005.
My dad hasn't been a part of my everyday life for several years now, and the pain and sadness is still so sharp and awful. I can only imagine how much harder it is for my mom, and my brother and sister who talked to him pretty much everyday.