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Thanks Angie. He was a strong, very healthy man and was complaining to me for several months that he just didn't feel right. It was so unlike him to complain. I went down to Florida to visit him and he and my stepmother and I went to his doctor to get some test results.
The doctor told him the bad news, that he had lung cancer. I was so glad I was with him at that moment. He was determined to fight it and win. When I knew that he was going to lose the fight, my heart broke for him because he wanted to live.
Fortunately for him, he was gone within 7 weeks of being diagnosed. He didn't have to suffer for very long. I went to visit him several times, took my daughter down, but I wasn't with him when he died. I'm sure God was there though.
I feel that now he is really happy. He had a wonderful family. We're Romanian, and had this close, large clan. I'm pretty sure that there's some Gypsy blood from that side of my family. My father's grandmother told fortunes for a living! Now, I can feel that he's with them and they're all together like always. He's with his younger brother, who died before he did, his parents, my mother, and all of the rest. He's also with his army buddies, old friends, and I know he's keeping an eye on me. I have asked him to really watch over my daughter, and I know he does.
I'm just glad he's happy now and not sick anymore. My love for him hasn't changed one bit, and I don't feel that his love for me has changed either.
I'm not saying that his death was easy for me, but this is how I found peace with it.
I hope it helps,
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