Coming up on 1 year since my dad passed away. Father's Day is Sunday and it's my first one without him. How I wish I knew back then that my life would drastically change a week later when my dad was admitted to the hospital again. How the next time he left it would be on hospice. After Sunday I can no longer say things like "last year at this time dad and I did this" because after Sunday the rest of my memories with him mostly consist of him in the hospital. Mostly things I'd rather forget simply because of the bitter and angry feeling I get when I think of how unfair it is that my father had to suffer like that. How sick he got and how ungrateful some people with two healthy parents can be. I hate the month of June. This is when we found out dad was rapidly getting closer to dying. I hate the month of October, because just the year before we had a different scare with dad where we thought we might lose him. That was a different health issue that he miraculously overcame. I hate the month of January because that is when dad's birthday is. I hate remembering how happy I felt when I thought I was lucky dad made it to his 60th birthday. Stupid me didn't know it would be his last. I hate September because that's when my birthday is. I used to have this childish excitement for my birthday. But it seems redundant now. Dad used to always say something along the lines of "On this day so and so years ago.." He said he was lucky to have such a great daughter even though it was me who was lucky to have such a great dad.
But I hate July the most. I hate July 4th. I hate how it was the last holiday I had with my dad, spent watching fireworks from his hospital room window. I hate the memories of doctors telling me there's nothing they can do. I hate the way my dad's eyes changed, like he was far away, like he was disconnected. He liked to leave the TV on when he got home. The same episode of a show would repeat constantly, and dad would act like it was his first time seeing it, even though he just saw it the day before. Even though dad changed he would always tell me he loved me before he fell back asleep. Or he would randomly wake up and say it, say my name, wondering if I was still there next to him, and when I would say "yeah dad?" He would just say that he loves me. Like he had to say it in case he didn't wake up again. I hate how my dad died in July.
It's almost been one year.
