so yeah. my dad died of a heart attack on the 22nd. he would be 62 on the 29th. he took good care of his health, he was well, he wasn't feeling anything. he was working out (as he did at least 3 times a week) when it happened.
i went home for the funeral and satyed with my mom and my sister for a little over a week. i'm back to my place and it's only now that i'm beginning to feel like it's real. it's only now that it is really hitting me.
i guess i was too worried about my mom (they loved each other so much! they had their issues, but they we happily married for 42 years) and my sister (who's a lot more sensitive than i am) and i hadn't yet looked in. now i am looking in. and it hurts. a lot.
we've always had a bumpy relationship. very similar personalities, but very different ways of thinking, so we argued a lot. but we loved each other a lot too, and i don't feel like we left any loose ends. that conforts me.
he was a no-bullshit, trustworthy, caring man, who lived a happy life and was proud of his family. he was also a pain in my ass and he hated (my) cats, but i could count on him whenever, for whatever. he died how he wanted to, just like his father, a quick, "easy" death. but he went too soon.
