I just need to write this to get it out of my system and hopefully keep me relatively normal at work tomorrow.

My dad is dying. He’s been in/out of the hospital the majority of the summer. It’s been hard to gauge how serious things have been because his wife (not my mom) has been providing the updates ranging from catastrophic to “he’s on the mend.” Yesterday he called me and my brother to let us know that he is in end stage renal and liver failure and he’s not pursuing further treatment. He’s in hospice care now and my brother and I go up on Tuesday, for what I am assuming will be a goodbye.

I always thought he would live a long time defying the odds of his poor health (his mom held on for a while on what I think was pure bitterness and bitchiness coursing through her veins). So while part of me isn’t surprised, part of me is—and I’m a little unprepared. It’s strange, because with the exception of my Dad losing his dad when he was in his late 30s, my parents were old AF when the rest of their parents died.

It also feels strange because I don’t consider myself particularly close to my dad—I think he thinks we are closer than we are. He’s done some annoying shit, but he’s my dad. I’m not looking forward to dealing with his wife (she’s annoying AF) or dealing with his family (mainly his sister) who will no doubt think me and my brother are horrible people for not visiting sooner or more often. I’m also worried about my brother punching my dad’s wife in the face (which, admittedly, if he did it, I wouldn’t be that mad about it). But I’m also afraid people will think that I’m not having the right kind of reaction to my dad dying. If there even is one.

Sorry for the bummer of Sunday post.

Also, try not to post anything good the next couple of days, I don’t want to miss anything.