Grief is weird. Sometimes, I can feel the tightness in my throat. This is usually when I feel like I’m going to start crying. Other times, it’s anger and rage, always directed at the people that don’t deserve it.
I feel like people are forgetting that he ever existed. The grave marker hasn’t been placed yet, which bothers me. No one knows who is buried there.
We’ve been struggling. It’s not every resting moment now. They’re random.
This time last week, I was sitting at my Dad’s bedside knowing that he was dying. I promised him that he wouldn’t be alone when he died.
I reminded him of the weekends when I was little. He had gotten me a Barbie bat. It was pink foam with a purple handle embossed with hearts and stars. He would pitch to me, I’d hit and run the bases. Then, I’d have to go get the ball so he could pitch again.
Larry Allen Swihart, 83, passed away on Monday, August 12, 2019 at Majestic Care, New Haven. Born in Fort Wayne he was the son of the late James and Irene (Westrick) Swihart. He served his country in the US Navy aboard the USS Yarnall and was employed with the Tokheim Corporation for over 20 years. He enjoyed fishing, hunting, and could often be found at Hall’s Restaurant in New Haven for his breakfast and black coffee.