Last Sunday evening brings both horrible sadness, horror, grief, and in the slimmest sense, relief. Just as my mother and I arrive home and the family readies for dinner; my father, who despite everyone's best efforts in watching for problems from what appeared to be a minor case of the flu, coughs, and begins to fade away. His new heart, the miracle that was nearly beyond hope nearly 13 months ago, has stopped. Despite my sister and mother's best efforts, the EMT and what had to be half of the emergency response of our little city, and the tireless work of the hospital staff, his new heart would not restart.
It's only hitting now, the fact