I remember the day it happened
He died of a disease called Amyloidosis. Amyloidosis, simply put, is a pre-cancerous cell that slowly destroys your body. It reaches your heart, and instantly kills you. It is undetectable until the person is found dead. There is no cure for it.
I was 12 when my dad passed away, and I remember it clearer than almost anything else. The morning of July 1st, 2010 I was walking out the door with my mom, my sister, and my uncle. My mom, sister, and uncle were going to the beach and dropping me off at my friend’s house on the way. My dad had a meeting for a pitch that he was really excited about. Every morning we would say bye to our dad and give him a kiss, just like we would run to the door and say hello when he came home every night. This morning, though, was different. My dad was in his bedroom and I was anxiously jumping by the door to go to my friend’s house. He yelled bye to me from the other room and very consciously, I remember thinking to myself “you don’t have to go in there and give him a kiss or say bye because you’ll see him later.” And that was it. I walked out the door. I went to my friend’s house and swam and before I knew it I was in our station wagon with our mom and uncle. It was calm and when we pulled into our house my mom said that daddy was in the hospital, but he should be fine. We were fine. We were calm. We didn’t think anything of it. There was a blur between but I remember my neighbors inviting us for ice cream. The thought of my mom and uncle with my dad in the hospital quickly vanished and was replaced with more excitement. We walked down to our local gelato shop and were all treated to some. The walk back was filled with laughter and fun. But then we got to our doorstep. Our neighbors slowly backed up and my mom stood in front of our cherry red door. Before she could even speak she started crying. And then I did. and then my sister did. The second I saw her face I knew what had happened, and immediately I started saying “this isn’t real life.” The words “daddy died” never actually came out of her mouth. We walked into our living room and inside were neighbors, friends, and colleagues of my dad. I couldn’t figure out how they all got there before us, and why. We sat on our couch and cried. I’m not sure how long but everyone in the room cried. I didn’t notice that people were there anymore. I made my way across the room and picked up a photo of the four of us, there was a crack through my dad. I brought it back to the couch with me and held onto it for dear life, quietly repeating, “this is a dream, this isn’t real life.”
Being so young when this happened, I processed grief in a very brief way. I went to grief camp where I was able to have an outlet to express myself, and I went to therapy. As I grow older though, I realize my grief is becoming even more present, and in the form of anger. I decided as an outlet I would write. You can read these passages, or you don’t have to. Some may be long, some may be short. This may be messy, and it may be bad, but thanks for letting me have a place for me to talk about someone who I love and miss very, very much. I’m struggling to learn how to express my thoughts, and I’m starting here, where my dad would, with words.
(also PLEASE pardon my less than impressive grammar- it is a weakness I have been cursed with all my life.)
