Dad Died

He wasn't ready to die and kept saying, "I have so much to do." But it was quick and he seemed not to suffer. Though he leaves storms of tears in his wake.
Since I got my date for surgery yesterday, it seemed easy enough to settle on just before February 23, for his service. Everyone is very solicitous of me in my weakened condition. I would have a few weeks to recover from chemotherapy before going under the knife.
I thought I didn't need to go to Cleveland now. They are going to write Dad's obituary and I can leave that to them. Just, please, don't list his club memberships. They are going to plan his funeral and Bambi gave me the responsibility of how it will look. I told her I wasn't up to that, unusual for the one who is mentally redecorating everywhere she goes.
But the need to mourn is immediate. Bambi went yesterday, wanting to say goodbye, but did not make it in time. Becky is going this morning and Bobbi arrives tonight. I want to cry with them. And with Jane, whose daily life will be impacted more than anyone else's.
I just told Allison, whose reaction was wonderful. She held Dad on a pedestal and will miss him terribly. I suggested a gathering tonight with the kids, but she thinks George is away. He sobbed when I told him. Blake and Anna have out of town guests.
The once a day, non-stop flight to Cleveland has already gone today. Andy offered to drive me. I can't decide.