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It’s still hard to believe, but my wonderful father, Harry Lloyd, passed from this life on Friday, January 18, 2013. The family celebrated his 90th birthday and Stepmom Dorothy’s 80th at our house last summer. The picture above was taken that day. 

Dan and I spent several days with Dad over the Christmas holidays while Dorothy was in the hospital with the flu. Dad also contracted the flu, but wasn’t hospitalized. This was the most time I’d spent one-on-one with him since I was a little girl. His sense of humor was intact even in the midst of coughing spells. The whole family was relieved when he began to recover. 

I spoke to Dad on the phone a few hours before he died. He said he felt great. He was putting on his shoes and getting his cane to go for a walk. We said goodbye as always, “Take care of yourself. I love you.” 
        “I love you too.” 

Dorothy called when she got home from the store. She was fixing soup for lunch. My brother Bob called two hours later to say Dad was gone. He took a nap after lunch and never woke up. The rescue squad couldn’t revive him.