My Father, Edward Knutson, was someone who personified the true meaning of love, of laughter, of how to enjoy life as it should be.  Even at the age of 83, he would still get down on the floor to wrestle with his grandchildren; he always found time to help one of his children with whatever they needed, whether it was taking care of his son, Alan's dog, fixing his daughter, Sara's, lawnmower, or just sharing past memories with his daughter, Sherry.  His one love in life, the one who stayed by his side during his 4 months in the hospital and at home during the last couple weeks, was Dorothy (O'Kane) Knutson.  

My Dad was never sick a day in his life, but on October 2 & 3, 2012, that changed when the doctor found a tumor in his brain.  He underwent brain surgery and came out of it with flying colors.  Leaving the hospital, he was determined to not let this stop him.  However, upon reentry to the hospital on Nov. 2, with dehydration, we never would have known that he would not live through this.

Dehydration isn't something people die from, and when they go into the hospital, they usually are given fluids and then fine, however while in the hospital ICU, my Dad got Aspergillis in his lungs, and Herpes Simplex Encephalitis in his brain, 2 very rare diseases. Aspergillis happens in 2-3 in 500,000 people and HSE happens in 2 in a million/year. 

He never recovered from them, and because of getting these two diseases, he was unable to start his much needed radiation and chemotherapy to keep the tumor from returning.

My Dad lost his voice, he rarely said anything out loud during his time in the hospital, though once in a while he would suprise us with a word spoken out loud.  This was so hard for us and him, I'm sure, as he was always one who loved to talk and to laugh.

He retained his positive attitude, trying to live up to the promise he'd made my mom to "never stop trying" to get well.  This went through even to the last day when the tumor had returned 2 weeks prior and he lay dying.

People were always saying how loving our family is, and it's true.  We never left dad's side if we could help it, talking to him, reading to him, anything we could, even joking with him, the way he used to with us.  

But no matter how many prayers were said, how much we hoped, and laughed with him, celebrating Thanksgiving, his birthday, christmas, new years, and the birth of his first great-grandchild, named after him;  in the hospital with him, we couldn't keep him with us.

My Father passed away on February 10th and was laid to rest on Valentine's Day, 2012, a day of love fitting for a man who was filled with love. 

To say I miss him is way below what I truly feel, the loss is undescribable, and though people say it'll get easier, I really don't see that happening. I wish I could just say "go away" to the painful memories and just have my dad back again, but it's not going to happen.  

I love you, Dad, I always have, always will, and I know you've not gone away forever.....you're only in the next room waiting to surprise us when we join you.  I miss your voice, your stories, the way your eyes sparkled when you laughed or played a prank on someone.  I miss your caring ways, your love, your advice....in other words, I miss you.