My father passed on November 28th at 6pm, just two hours after I made it through the most horrendous series of delays on a cross country flight to reach him before he dropped his envelope, and one day before his 31st wedding anniversary to my stepmom.
He'd suffered from mantle cell lymphoma four years ago, and undergone an autogolouos stem cell transplant (his own cells) and had been doing well until this past fall, when he developed a complication from the chemotherapy he received as part of the procedure. Basically, his bone marrow shut down, and he stopped making platelets, white and red cells, a side effect, we were told, that happens in less than 5% of all cases.
I made it just in time to say goodbye, and tell him I loved him. Though sedated, he lightly squeezed my hand. I stepped away from his bed and when I turned back, he was gone.
He had a 20+ year career in the Navy and a distinguished civil servant career after that, and a good number of his Naval Academy classmates came to the service and told stories about him that I'd never heard, which was wonderful. And I told stories about the dad they never knew.
This is my third loss this year. My last grandmother and the woman who's been my surrogate mom since my real mom passed 20 years ago also died this year. I wish them all the highest good in the Summer Country.