I was going to write this diary entry about my awesome day where I flew a plane. It was pretty fucking awesome. However, before I could sit down and write that entry I got a call from my mom.
At 1:22ish on Sunday the 21st of June 2015 I received a call from my beloved father. Since I was standing in line at Target waiting to have my Cartwheel barcode scanned I hit the ignore button. A min later the voicemail notification flashed. While walking to my car I called him back and had a brief typical conversation with him. He told me to come over at 4 for the BBQ and joked about mom. We exchanged “I love yous” and hung up. I went home and unloaded groceries. Around 2:15 I heard my phone ring. It was from my dad’s number but it was my mom on the other end. “Your father’s had a stroke or something, we’re headed to the emergency room.” I felt my breath catch in my throat. I told her I would meet her there and grabbed my keys and headed out the door. It wasn’t a stroke. Got to the hospital and found out it was an anyurism that had burst in the middle of his brain. He was bleeding out and there was nothing they could do for him. He was completely unresponsive. The best they could do was make him “comfortable” and wait out his death. We informed family members. One by one they flocked to the hosipital. We surrounded him as he lay there, occassionaly convulsing but completely unresponsive. We told him we loved him and shared our favorite memories. Eventually the Rabbi arrived. Prayers were recited. We held hands and prayed for him. Everyone but my mom, brother and I left the room. The Rabbi said the last prayer and as he finished talking my father passed on. It had barely been 3 hours since he collapsed getting out of his vehicle in the driveway of my childhood home. My mother couldn’t bear to go home. I told her to stay at my house. I went by and grabbed her a bag of clothes and supplies. My mother, brother and their dog all came to my house. We ate whatever we found in my fridge and now I am typing this. I am supposed to be writing an obituary but I am not ready to do that. I am numb and I don’t want to live in a world where my dad isn’t a phone call away. I don’t know how to be me without my dad around. I’ve never had to live without him. I don’t really want to. I thought this week was finally starting to get better. What a fucking joke.