My senior dog woke me up around 3:30 am to go potty. I tried going back to sleep, but he continued to whimper for several minutes (which he does these days) before resuming his doggie snores. So instead of drifting back to sleep myself, my mind drifted to my dad, who died a year ago today, April 8, 2020, and I started crying. And haven’t really stopped yet. It was one of those days you know deep down is coming, but you never want it to. For years my dad would say “you know I’m not gonna be around forever”, which I hated because it was something I didn’t want to think about.
Of all things, part of me is actually thankful it happened during quarantine because being home allowed me to unleash all my emotions whenever I needed to. I got the call I never wanted to get at 12:09 pm while I was working. I started screaming in anguish right over the phone and it continued for some time afterwards. If I’d been at the office, a significant portion of my reaction would’ve been repressed and bottled up and potentially internalized for quite some time. Also, working from home, I can just cry whenever the need strikes, which was (and is) quite a lot.
The last time I talked to him was April 6th. He’d just been released from the hospital after undergoing a couple procedures. Released way too soon if you ask me. He still wasn’t feeling very well. I mean, he’d been in the hospital for a couple weeks before they even did the procures and was released only a day or two later. And believe me, if I had the means, I’d be fucking suing the hospital for malpractice. I mean, these procedures were meant to help him feel better and only a few days later he’s gone?
To my everlasting regret, I hadn’t gone back home to visit my parents in years; they are in Minnesota, we’re in California and there was “always something” and I could do it “later”. Stupid excuses. They were going to come out and visit us a couple times as well, but that also never happened. Sure, we talked on the phone, but I don’t think I’ll ever get over the guilt of not having seen him again.
When I went home for his funeral in July, I found his wallet (mom had put it in the kitchen “junk” drawer). It absolutely broke me when I found he had five small photos of me throughout the years tucked inside it.
I guess no real point to this; I just miss him so much. Today’s going to be a hard day.
