365 days is quickly drawing near but it could just as easily have been a second that passed instead. Am I awake?, I think to myself. Most dialogue since then has been to my self, not really other people per se. Did I really wake up or is this just some horrible nightmare I’m subjecting myself to out of sheer guilt? No, is the conclusion I’ve drawn. The first one was right, 365 is almost here and you better deal with it quick, I say to myself.. They say that mourning lasts years. A whole lifetime, even. And I think that’s probably just about right. The hardest part, besides knowing I’ll never speak to him again, knowing that so many of the things my father did for me and took for granted, all of the really sage advice he gave, the advice I needed at the right time. The person I talked to when the woman I loved left me. I went to my parents. And I’ll never forget what my father said. Kowing all of this is gone. Knowing that my recollections are the only thing that’s left of him. None of it hurt as much as the fact of the matter that he SHOULDN’T have died. He was killed. Poisoned by the very water he drank. When the drinking water was wsitched to the river, I told my mom to get bottled from here on out. She said, Ohh its ok we’re boiling it. FUCK. all that did was increase the lead level in the water. Dads doc. said there was no reason he should have died. His health was better than it had been in years. Yet he had a stroke and fatal MI in a 33 day period. Lead causes high blood pressure. Which any self respecting nurse, doc, PA, medic or EMT would know is the…. SILENT KILLER!! Something catastrophic happened to my dad. You don’t just have a stroke and MI for no reason. He was drinking LEAD and so was my mother. But he paid the price. He never gets to meet grandchildren. Or even fucking breathe. The most difficult part of my dad’s death was taking him to get cremated. The heavy reailty that there was no return for my dad. No matter how hard I tried to wake up. This is real. It. Is. Real. He. Died. He. Is. Dead. No. Coming. Back. From. That. As I pulled up to the facility, it dawned on me that I hadn’t really appreciated the gravity of this thing that was about to take place. My dad’s body was in a carboard coffin whichw as placed in a closed room with a lid on it that slams shut witha thud as dull as the dead bodies going in it. My dad went in in this carboard box and was lit on fire for 24 hours at about 3800 degrees fahrenheit. There’s no fucking coming back from that. That’s about as final as you can get. Tissue and bone inside a thing hotter than the sun isn’t going to last long and most definitely won’t be recognizable upon leaving. My dad was changed forever. Before at least he was my dads body. But now, now he’s just carbon chunks with some nitrogen and fragments of potassium. hardly my loving dad whome i remember on my first christmas in remembrance, on xmas morning. putting together all the toys i had been adourned with because my parents were so happy to have me after nearly losing me just after birth. I just really can’t believe he’s dead. he never got sick…and to be dead now. “See you on the other side Dad”, was all I could sputter out through spasms of tears, whimpers and cries. I’d do anything to change this. anything and everything and nothing because that’s all there is. 2015 has been the worst of my life so far. I do add so far because it’s not over yet. Fuck this world, I’m not giving up. I’m going to make it suck my dick and fucking swallow. I’m going to achieve my goals in this unfair shit world. And I’m going to win. I’m going to be the happy family man who gave his kids all they need in the world. I WIN BITCHES
Death doesn’t define me. Time may have temporarily frozen, but its not finite. It’s not the end. I don’t die here. I don’t die like this. There’s more.