Yesterday we wen't again with my brother and sister. I couldn't muster up the courage to say anything in front of them, but I managed to ask if we could take turns on being alone with him. In a morbid way, it made it easier to open up when it wasn't clear whether he was conscious or not. I don't know if I could've done it otherwise. But I said what I needed to say, and we went again to see him in the evening. My mom and sister decided to stay in his hospital room for the night, while the rest of us went home.

Today, a little past nine in the morning my sister called to say that dad had stopped breathing and died. We went there with the whole family (my other sister aswell) to see him, after the nurses changed the blue sheets to clean white ones. It's a bit over noon now. We just came home, ate breakfast and hoisted the flag at half-mast. It feels somehow easier, knowing that atleast he's not in pain anymore.

It's Mother's Day tomorrow, so we're trying especially hard to make this easier on mom. We're making a cake for her and buying red roses, like dad always used to. It is clearly hardest for her, as they were married for almost 40 years. Mom's always been very religious, even more adamantly so in the recent years. None of us children are religious or members of the church anymore, but we indulge her when she feels like praying, or singing a hymn. It's her way of dealing with things. Last week dad had asked for himself to be christened to the faith aswell. I don't know if he wanted it more for himself or for mother, but I know it seems to have made mom feel a lot better about the whole thing.

Again, thanks for the support everyone. I know it doesn't seem like much, but you've already probably helped me deal with these the last couple of days more than you care to guess. Just being able to come here and spill myself out (which I never tend to do about anything), and get any kind of a warm response means so much.