I honestly don't even know where to begin with this post. Around 7pm on Valentine's Day, I got a text from my mom saying that Dad had been taken to the hospital by ambulance. They weren't sure what was going on, but she would keep me and my siblings posted. I was in shock and disbelief but surely everything was going to be okay. A few minutes later I got a phone call from an ER nurse.
Everything was not okay and my mom needed me to come and be with her. We loaded up our little family into the car and made the drive to the hospital. The entire time I kept thinking that this wasn't going to end up being a big deal. He had to be okay. My brother was getting ready to leave on his mission in less than 2 weeks. Between missionary blessings, faith, and my father's incredible righteousness, there was no doubt in my mind that he would get through whatever this was. Unfortunately, I was wrong. My father passed away shortly after I got there. The final cause of death was cited as a massive pulmonary embolism (blood clot through the lung).
The last week has been spent planning his funeral and grieving with family and friends. The funeral was yesterday and was a beautiful service. How grateful I am that my parents taught me about the Plan of Salvation. I don't know that I'd still be functioning without the peace found in that plan right now. I have never been so utterly and completely drained--physically, mentally, and emotionally. I never thought I would lose one of my parents before even one of my grandparents.

Good night, Daddy. Love you. See you in the morning!