My father died 9 years ago today while I was 6 months pregnant with my first child. I never fully grieved. the day in the hospital. before he died, he was frail and exhausted with dementia, and now a broken arm. Mom was fed up and did not want to care for him anymore, he overheard us talking about nursing homes. what if that was the last thing he thought of me? talking her mother into putting him into a nursing home. I wanted to take him to my house, I was 6 months pregnant. he was hospitalized a lot throughout the years, and I always stayed with im into the night. I would convince the nurses to let me stay. make sure he had his codeines so he would not go into withdrawal, i wanted to be with him in the final moments, I wanted to witness him die as i did my grandmother years before. That last night, he ultimately asked me “What I was looking at? My distant cousin made me take a photo with him my dad and my aunt, mom my was furious a photo was taken. when I was forced to leave. he didn’t say goodbye. and no one else stayed into the night. he died in a green nurse’s care in the early moring hours of April 1.