July 4th, 2020 my father Lewis Berg left this earthly plane and turned in his life for angel wings. His death was not COVID related in any way but it did have to do with his lungs. He was diagnosed with Lung Cancer years ago but because of his emphysema, black lung, and COPD, they were not able to biopsy cancer only watch it. It never grew in size luckily but as he got older, it because more and more difficult for him to breathe.
A few weeks ago my mother called me about his health and I got on the phone and reached out to him, yearning for him to go to the ER and call 911. Being the stubborn Norwegian man he was, he had no desire to do that. He was tired. He was tired of fighting for air. He was tired of fighting for his life. He was tired of doing breathing exercises. He was tired of nurses and EMTs and doctors coming in and out.
He was just tired.
He mentioned to me often how he longed for his freedom.
He finally got it.
He was a military veteran and I find it fitting that he left this earth on a day about freedom, the 4th of July.
For me, he was the only dad I ever knew.
My biological father, Art passed away as a janitor from a scaffolding accident putting up a high school scoreboard in 1980. I was at the age of ten. I did not grieve until I was the age of 13. It never felt real until one Thanksgiving in 1983. His birthday was around thanksgiving and he passed away on December 7th. Every time about that time of year, I become sad and sullen, even if I don't mean to. It's like my brain and my body never forgot.
Now I wonder, will I always remember the 4th of July in the same way about him?
More than likely, yes.
I will miss him.
But in my heart I know he is not suffering.
He is finally free.
Fly home dad.
They are ready for you.
Your brother, your family, your heritage.
Fly on dad...fly on...home.