My dad had a massive heart attack Friday night. He had the type they call the Widow Maker. Complete blockage of the left ventricle or something. I don’t know. Despite my near religious viewing of “House”, I’m not actually a doctor. Evidently, people usually die from this type of heart attack (or Miocardial Infarction if you’re feeling fancy) before they can receive medical attention. Luckily, this wasn’t the case with my dad. He probably had a heart attack last week as well. He was out in the cold, walking briskly and felt extreme pain and tension in his chest. He attributed it to the really cold weather, sat down for a few minutes and caught his breath. He blew it off as nothing. But, this one happened while he was sitting on the couch in his 74-degree apartment. He knew this one wasn’t nothing. He’ll be having a quadruple bypass in the morning.
My mom died when I was 6. I don’t usually advertise this, but if someone asks, I’ll tell them. My greatest fear has always been my dad dying, too. I know he’ll die someday. I’m probably more aware of that fact than most people are about their parents, because I grew up knowing that it was always not just a possibility, but an actuality. I almost certainly have an unnatural preoccupation with loved ones dying. When I don’t hear from someone, I automatically assume the worst. The more I love them, the greater that fear becomes. I’ve driven people mad with this. I’m sure it’s about to get worse. So, for all of you out there who are supposed to call me at appointed times, please do it so I won’t assume that you’re dead in a ditch, ok? Thanks.
I don’t have siblings. I didn’t grow up with my family, so I don’t know my cousins and aunts and uncles. My dad is all I have. He’s it. He’s my family. He’s my friend. He’s the one person in my life who has always been there. Always had my back. Always told me when I was being a fuckheaded ‘tard and always brings me Diet Coke with Splenda. He’s my go-to person. He came to California to drive my car and me to Ohio because I asked him to. Who does that? Yes, he gets on my nerves (and I’m fairly certain I get on his just as often). Yes, he’s technologically challenged. Yes, he’s sarcastic and kind of a dick sometimes. BUT, he’s also extremely thoughtful. Extremely funny. Extremely generous and would give anyone in need the shirt off his back. Literally. He’s LITERALLY given someone his coat. Twice. In the middle of winter.
I’m not ready for him to be gone. I’m just not. I’m not equipped to be all alone. I like being alone, but not that alone. The fear is overwhelming at times and the thought of him not being there is more than I can take right now. I just can’t. I can’t conceive of what that type of aloneness must be like. I’m afraid. Down to my toes, deep in my soul, afraid. The dread is heavy. I try to joke and play online and bullshit my way though this, but I am terrified. And sad. And feeling very, very alone.