My Dad died today. He was 84, yet the man was healthy as a horse and had far more energy than I have on my best days. He ate healthy. He worked 6 days per week. He spent his time off clearing out dead trees from his wooded acreage in the back. He stopped smoking almost 20 years ago. He would enjoy a shot or two of whisky and a single beer every night. He had no underlying conditions.

He apparently took lunch with someone who was later diagnosed with COVID-19. A few days later, he showed a slight fever...just over 100. It returned to normal in the evening. This process repeated itself for about three days...a slight fever in the late afternoon that would then subside. After the first day, my Mom called their doctor who scheduled a COVID test for him. It took another day to get the test and then two days after to get the results. On that my Friday we learned he was positive.

That Sunday, two Sundays ago, he lost his balance while going to the bathroom in the middle of the night. He was unhurt, but seemed slightly disoriented. My Mom called his doctor, who said to take him to the emergency room. She had to wait a bit to settle him as he refused an ambulance. They immediately placed him in the ICU.

We watched him, for almost two weeks, slowly deteriorate. While he was never placed on a ventilator, they could never get his blood oxygen levels back up. He fought the mask, the IV, and the rest and he had to be sedated and restrained. Early this afternoon, my Mom was summoned to his room so she could say goodbye. The nurse was kind enough to facilitate a Zoom call so his children and grandchildren could be there. We literally watched him die. We watched him take his final breath. It was devastating.

Today, Dec 31, was my Mom and Dad’s wedding anniversary.

Today was the cherry on top of the shit sundae that was 2020.