In the Wake of My Father's Passing

Three weeks and a day ago I received a call in the early morning from my mother informing me that she had found my father on the floor nearly in a diabetic coma. I knew he has had cancer for the last six months. A cancer which he had decided to let run its natural course.
I packed up my life, and moved into their house. He was in and out of the hospital for the next few days, as he could not eat much, causing his blood sugar to drop rapidly. I spent the next three weeks being a full time son, nurse, artist, and part time house keeper.
I found a strength not my own. As I watched my father's spirit cut by half with every passing day, I dispensed the very medication which had kept me as a walking dead man for most of my life. I spent late nights painting while he slept, and as the dementia rapidly onset and his hallucinations and delusions became greater, sat with him to assure him it would be alright.
Having been in these states before due to the vices in my past, I was the only person capable of knowing how he felt, and to what extent the fear had overcome him. As I had willingly walked to death's door many times, it assured me of what I knew already. I am not afraid of death, it is life that scares me.
The last two days were absolutely horrific. My father went out as he had lived, a fighter. Unfortunately, I knew he was scared of meeting a vengeful God. He wore a medallion around his neck which he took off a day prior to his demise. I did not read it until the day after his passing. On it were these words:

"He who wears lays wearing this shall not suffer eternal fire."

My father was afraid of hell, while in life, I have already been there.

Norman Patrick Deignan died April 13, 2010. He had spent the majority of his life on the beach, a fisherman. He always loved birds and raised homing pigeons and doves.
I was smoking outside, my parents' street was clear upon my mother calling me in. I ran in to express my love for him as he took his last breath. After standing beside my mother holding her for a few minutes, I returned outside to smoke and purge my tears. Seagulls had surrounded the house. They stayed and dove at nothing on the ground, as if catching small fish in the ocean for about ten minutes, then gently flew away.
Despite his fear, I know my father is in peace. I am relieved. Not that he is gone, but that his fear and suffering is over. I will be eternally grateful for the life he has given me, the the gift I was given to care for him and be his son for his last days.
While he was still lucid, he told me that he only wished he had "stayed around long enough to see me go somewhere with my art". What he may not have understood is that in the coming months, the greatest opportunities of my life have presented themselves.
In my time down here, I have six of my new pieces well on their way to completion. I love each and every one of these paintings. The pieces for my show at the Alternative Cafe are a new series titled "Somber Mourning", and deal with the emotions of loosing someone close. My paintings for Last Rites express young lust and anger. I will not be previewing any, including my painting for "Blood, Sweat, and Fears" at Sacred Gallery NYC.
I have much work to do, and I want to express my love and thanks to everyone who has helped me make it through this rough time in my life. It was the most difficult experience of my life, and the most rewarding.
Look out. Here I come.