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I’m still here.

Yesterday was a good day. I didn’t cry. Not even once! Of course it helped that I was out  pretty much from morning to evening; being proactive in my own life. That’s something I NEED to do more often. (Duh, right?)

Today, I’ve been exhausted. Of course I was home all day (except for a quick trip to get McDonald’s, whoops).

I tell ya, grief is exhausting! It just takes so much out of you. I don’t feel like crying right now, but fuck am I wrung out.

It’s not just the grief & the guilt over my dad’s death. I feel guilty that I’m more devastated over my dad’s death than I was over my mom’s. Maybe because I still had my dad around when my mom passed. It could be that we all have favorite parents (and parents with more than one kid generally do pick favorites. We all know this). Either way, I feel like a shitty daughter.

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This Too Shall Pass

Sunday was like any other Sunday. Well, my dad had slept late due to a shitty night’s sleep. (He hadn’t been feeling well for about a week or so.) But over all, Sunday had been normal. There had been TV watching, being lazy, and then bed.

That’s when it all changed.

I was getting undressed for bed when I heard my dad make a loud noise. Naturally I went in to see how he was doing. Apparently he was having breathing issues so I went to get his nebulizer (a breathing treatment that had worked in the past). Before I could give it to him, he stopped breathing. Panicking, I called 911 and was instructed on how to do chest compressions as I waited for the ambulance to arrive. As you can imagine, I begged and pleaded for it to work, tried my hardest to make him breathe again. The ambulance arrived rather quickly, and the EMTs took over. While they worked on him, I got dressed again, prayed, and hoped that I would have the chance to scold my dad about taking better care of himself once he was feeling better in the hospital.

Sadly that was not to be.

While they had been able to briefly get a pulse, it didn’t last long. More than an hour after my father stopped breathing, he was pronounced dead at the hospital.

I’m numb, angry, and beyond devastated. I thought I would have longer with him, convinced myself that I would. I should have convinced him to take better care of himself. I SHOULD have seen that he had been depressed since my mom died in April of 2014. How did I miss it? How did it take until it was too god damn late for me to notice?

I’ve been told that I shouldn’t blame myself. Logically, I know that. Well, a part of me knows that logically. And yet, I still do. I could have done a hell of a lot more to make sure he stayed healthy. I should have seen that he was depressed. Now I need to find a way to survive, to get through this. I honestly don’t know how to do it, or why I deserve to.

Honestly, the only reason I’m still here is because of the support I’ve gotten from my family & friends. My sister Lorri booked it in to NYC after I called her at after two in the damn morning. She made it easier for me to get through the past few days. I guess I’ll have to keep going for her and the others who have been supporting me… because, what else can I do?