Doomsday Clock

Father Unit

I've been thinking about my dad for the past few days. He died the day after his 60th birthday. Just had a massive heart attack and was found by my step mother at the kitchen table, where he was 99% of the time. He was already on hospice, so we knew it was gonna happen sooner rather than later. I stayed calm and collected during all of it, because Aunt Tudi was a basket case when he died. He was her closest sibling, and they talked at least every other day, which was amazing, considering he lived in Charleston, so the calls were long distance.

But now, I'm really starting to miss the point I'm dreaming about him when I get to sleep. I want him back. I'd do anything to talk to him, to hug him, to laugh at Mel Brooks movies with him. Seven years after his death, I'm really starting to feel the impact of losing him. We had our problems with one another, but at least we had ironed out most everything before he passed. But I still want to hung him one last time. I want to do something to show how much I really loved him. I want to cry with him over the loss of Aunt Tudi.

And I can't.

The dreams are so real, I wake up thinking he's still alive. I get hit with grief when I realise he is not. There's no rest for the wicked I guess. I feel like death is all around me, and it's the only thing I think about.

I'm angry with god or goddess or whatever is out there, if there is anything out there. I scream at it, I cry at it, I shake my fist at it. I'm tired of Death cradling me. If only I could think of something else. I want to think about people who are still alive, even though they make it clear that I'm a nuisance.

But I'd rather have my father back.
  • Current Location: stuck at home
  • Current Mood: father, depresson, loneliness
  • Current Music: tv noise

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