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Two bits of information you need to understand my fright: first, Dad is always, always, ALWAYS up before I am. He normally is out of bed around 7:15 AM and no later than 7:30 whereas I, while wakening considerably earlier than I ever did (voluntarily) in my youth, usually get up between 7:45 AM-8:00 AM. And second, on Sunday mornings, Dad likes to watch two different preachers before we go to church; one is on at 8:00 AM and the other right after, at 8:30 AM.

Now, onto my scare...yesterday, I awoke at 7:45 AM and padded quietly first to the bathroom and then to the kitchen for something to drink. Along the way, I first noticed that the light above the recliner in the living room wasn't on. MY morning routine (on days I either don't work or have the evening shift) is to plop down in my recliner after going to the bathroom and kitchen and scroll through Instagram and Google on my phone. Dad will often turn on the light above my chair on his way to the kitchen, where he begins his morning with oatmeal and then a trip to the garage where we have a stationary bicycle* that he rides 30 minutes a day.

* it's actually just a regular extra bicycle that I got free from a rummage sale; Dad stuck it up on some milk crates to make it stationary. Cuz we bougie like that.

Once in the kitchen, I noticed that the library book and reading glasses Dad always places on the kitchen table the night before, in anticipation of reading while he rides his miles, are still on the kitchen table. Uh-oh. If this was a horror movie, this is where the suspenseful music would begin playing low in the background. I took a peek in the garage...no Dad on his milk crate supported bike. Fearing the worst, I went to his bedroom and peered inside (he sleeps with the door partially open); there was a Dad-shaped form buried under the blanket. I spent a few seconds trying to see if the form was, you know, breathing but the blanket was too thick to detect any movement.

So of course my mind jumped to the worst possible conclusion: Dad had passed away in his sleep.

Now it wasn't entirely impossible that he was just enjoying a lazy morning snuggled under the covers. I knew he wouldn't want to miss his morning preachers, so I decided to give him 15 minutes to wake up and if he hadn't before then, well, I'd have to go into his room and see just how "asleep" he was. When 8:00 AM rolled around, I went to his door and reached inside and flipped on the light.

Dad sat straight up, wide awake, and asked ME what was wrong.

I told him it was 8:00 AM and he said "nah..." and glanced at his ancient alarm clock. Which was programmed over a decade ago to "fall back" the last weekend of October, which was, of course, this past weekend. Dad had awakened around 7:00 AM, glanced at the clock, saw that it said 6:00 AM and figured he'd doze for another hour or so. This has, of course, been a problem the last few years (I don't remember when we switched to an earlier "spring forward" and a later "fall back" but it was well after Dad's alarm clock was made) but I think this was the first year I was awake early enough to notice Dad was still in bed, thinking he still had an hour to go before he "had" to get up.

I laugh about it now but for 15 minutes yesterday, I was shaking, my heart was pounding and I was fighting back tears. I told my good church friend after our church service that I know Dad would prefer to go suddenly, painlessly, in his sleep one day but I think it would be easier on ME if I had a little warning before he went to meet his Maker.