RIP dad

My dad passed away a few weeks ago. It did not really hit me right away that he was gone. I mean I knew he was dead but the entire feeling of him now being around anymore took awhile to sink in. His passing was not a bad event, it was not scary and it was not painful. We were able to bring him home and he was home for 3 days before he died. Those 3 days were a gift that I would have never expected. The 3 days of being by his side, having my brother here and just taking care of my dad really helped heal wounds from the past years. I have always felt my dad loved my brother more. I have been sure of it. I felt bitter about it but I liked to think that it did not really matter. But it did. We were blessed that the 3 days he was home he was aware and talking the entire time all the way up to about an hour before he died. He told me he loved me. He told me that I was his pride and joy. He told me how hard and long my mom and him tried to have me and how he even went off his medications because the meds he was on could effect his sperm count and how the dr told him how dangerous it was but he wanted a child so badly that he went ahead. He was already 35 years old before he had me so he had waited years to be a dad. After I was born my mom and dad were sure that they would probably never be able to have another child because it was so hard for them to get pregnant with me. My mom was surprised when 6 months after she had me she was pregnant again and had my brother. My dad said that yes he was glad to have a son but that I was his pride and joy. He told me how he thought that a father and a son should do stuff together and that a mom and daughter should do stuff together and so that is why he did certain things with my brother and it was not that he purposely tried to exclude me from stuff. He was just raised that boys do certain things and girls do certain things. He told me about how proud he was when I was the first girl to play tee ball on the boys team at the park. He remembered about a special jacket he bought for me when I was 4 and I wanted it so badly but my mom would not let me get it. It was a red fuzzy jacket and I remember it. I was very glad that we had those days to spend together. My dad said there is a letter for me that he wrote when I got married the first time back when I was 16. I am not sure where it is and he could not remember if it was in his desk or one of his safe deposit boxes or what but I will find it.
We gave my dad everything he wanted for 3 days. We gave him all the rootbeer he wanted, fresh orange juice, organic apple cider, he even had 1/2 of a dark beer ( he was not a drinker but he enjoyed a dark beer once in awhile ( like once every few years lol). The first night he was home he asked for pizza so we went to the pizza shop and got him a personal pizza. He only had a few bites but he enjoyed it. The first day/night home he did not want us to give him his morphine because he wanted to make sure he was able to tell us everything he wanted to tell us. He had been planning for weeks what he wanted to tell us if he got to this point. We played his special music for him, we put pictures of all his grandkids etc right by him. We told him all the special memories that we had. He had his dog and his cat nearby.
He was home for 3 days and we were surprised that he made it that long. His kidneys did not function much at all...all 3 days he was home he had no urine output at all. His heart was so weak that it was not perfusing blood to his fingers and toes so they were greyish and cold. His heart rate and blood pressure were low but he just kept on talking and wanting us by him.
At times I thought he was tired and wanted to sleep and I asked him if he wanted us to stop talking and leave him alone and he would say no that he wanted us to keep talking and not stop. He wanted to hear our voices he said.
The 2nd night he was more lethargic but he was still aware of what was going on. The 3rd day we kept thinking that he was unconcious and would not wake up again and then he would surprise us and start talking again. For about 8 hours before he died he just kept saying * it is good to be home* and * I am feeling no pain* he just kept saying it over and over. He dozed off for the final time and was peacefully resting and then he took his last breath. I was on one side of him and my brother was on the other. I was holding my dads hand and was weeping a bit. It hit my brother harder and he was leaning over into the bed grabbing/holding onto my dad and was crying rather hysterically. I did not expect that. I let him cry a few minutes and then I walked around to my brother and pulled him away from my dad and hugged him and told him that we did a good job of taking care of my dad, that my dad was happy to have been home and he was now out of pain and that my dad did not want to keep living the way he had been.
He was ok after a few minutes, he just needed to cry for a bit. We called the funeral home and took care of all the other stuff that had to be done. We took off his wedding ring, we cut a lock of his hair, we let the kids see him one last time if they wanted to.
It still is hard at times to realize that my dad is gone. A few days ago was Easter and I was thinking of what to make and I was thinking of making something that I knew my dad liked and then I had to remind myself that he was not going to be around for anymore holidays or birthdays or anything like that.
We have his ashes and we have planned a few places to spread his ashes, places that he loved when he was alive. We did not have a funeral or anything like that because my dad was very very firm that he did not want us to spend any money on that sort of thing. He always said that money was for the living lol...
I know that death is never a good thing but I am just glad that he was not in pain and that he is not suffering anymore