Even more devastatingly my father was still alive then.
He died September 19, 2018.
My life as I knew it ended.
I don't know who I am without him. We talked every day usually for at least 30-90 minutes. I worked at his office each Friday for the past two or three years. He was my best friend in the world.
The most messed up part is that no autopsy was done. I was such a wreck, I just assumed one would be done.. He had diabetes, fine, he'd had two heart attacks.. But that was in, like, 2000. He'd just passed an EKG and stress test. And he monitored his blood sugar closely. He had herniated discs and fucked up nerves in his back. When he brought his MRI to his one doctor, the doctor said he was amazed he was able to walk. He used a cane, and every step hurt him a lot, but he did it. He still came to work every day.
My father's wife's son embalmed him. He told me his body was full of blood clots. More than he'd ever seen. He feels confident it was a pulmonary embolism. My dad had had chest pain the week or two before he died. He'd be walking and it'd hurt so much, and he'd feel so weak, he'd have to stop and sit down. But he assured me it was just angina, that he'd mentioned it to his cardiologist who said not to worry, once he had the spinal fusion surgery in November, there'd be less stress on his body, walking would become much easier...
He was scheduled to meet with his surgeon at Rothman the morning he didn't wake up.
What I don't understand is how, maybe a month before he died, he went to see a vascular specialist. He'd had pain in his legs, and the back doctor wanted to be sure that it was caused by the back stuff, not something else.. The vascular doctor ran a device up and down both his legs. He told him, "You have good circulation, it's nothing vascular, it's just bc your back is so damaged."
How did this specialist miss blood clots apparently filling both his legs?
I'll never know.
I spoke to him about 2:30 pm September 18th. He said he'd walked to the restaurant across the street, Tir Na Nog, and felt weak and his chest hurt so he'd stopped, sat in the lobby of his building, but then was fine. He was going to fast that night, like he did every year since 1958.
And then he just didn't wake up.
He'd also had a cough the week before, but said it was a minor cold. Now I think it was the blood clot making its way to his lungs.
If only I'd known. If only I'd forced him to go to the ER. I know he'd have refused to, but if I just had been able to say I somehow knew he'd DIE if he didn't.. Maybe he would've..
I never knew what pain was. I thought I hurt when I got dumped. I thought I hurt when my cat died. I thought I hurt when my parents divorced. I thought I hurt when I felt lonely and depressed. I thought I hurt when my best friend ended our friendship. Those were all just scrapes and cuts.
This is the deepest wound I never knew I could experience and still be alive.
Nobody knew him like me. He told me everything. Things he didn't tell his siblings because he didn't want to upset them. Things no one else would find as funny or understand. He always told me how much he loved me. How proud he was of me. (even though besides finally graduating college, I've never accomplished anything at all.) how glad he was I was his daughter. No one loved me or thought I was as great, as he did. He was the one person I knew always thought the world of me. He never ever yelled at me, never really even got mad, even when he had to come get me from the holding cell in Cheltenham in 2006. He was so kind and generous and patient. He thought I had endless potential. He always told me how smart I was. He thought I was so much better than I actually am. And now he's just gone and I'm alone. Alone. How am I supposed to walk around this city, which is now so cold and empty, without him in it? He was like this gateway to a world of adults, he made me feel like I could someday be a real person, who worked full-time in an office. He said when his paralegal retired, he'd have me take over. When anything happened, he helped me.
I lost my car in a flood in August. He paid the towing and storage fee to get my car out, bc they would've just kept charging the like $75 every day for eternity otherwise. Then he paid for me to rent a car for weeks until I was able to get a used car, at an insanely high interest rate with Ray cosigning. And he agreed to pay my insurance for a year, as he'd done for his wife's sons. That was September 15th.
He always helped me.
My mother finally lost our house September 10th. She had nowhere to go. The bank promised her a certain amount of money to leave promptly, and they screwed her, giving her $2000 less than promised. She bought a used car. It was a foolish decision, in my opinion. She should've used the money for the first and last month's rent on an apartment. But I couldn't stop her. She is staying with her sister, who is a hoarder, and who has some emotional problems. She also has a cat and thinks my mom's 3 cats will bear up or kill her cat so they have to be locked in a tiny room 8 hours a day.
All the apartments she applies to say they won't accept someone with a foreclosure and bankruptcy on their credit history.
She finally found one, that is considering her, but we don't know yet.
So shit is fucked up for my mom now. But as we were moving, my dad kept saying how sorry he was.. And he was the one who wrote up the agreement with the Bank of New York Mellon. Without him, my mom could've ended up homeless and with no money. At least she got a little bit, and got a car.
He was just a good person. He was never ever mean to anyone. He never set out to hurt anyone. He was so charming. His paralegal said she talked to opposing counsel he'd faced years ago, who said he was just impossible not to like. And he was brilliant. He recently had a case where he did tons of research and found some obscure little sentence that changed things for his client, that no one had ever used before. We talked about his cases all the time. He was so smart and worked his ass off. That client still owes him thousands of dollars. She obviously thinks she just doesn't have to pay it back. And she won't. That's what you get for being decent to people. Most lawyers don't let you owe them money. They refuse to work if not paid. He felt bad for his clients and many of them paid in installments. Now, instead of doing the right thing by us, his heirs, they just feel they're exempt from that debt.
Oh, and my sister and I have not received one cent even though his colleague and friend has settled some cases of his. I know for a fact his wife has received these checks. We're waiting for his wife's lawyer to contact us with a date for us to meet with him. I don't care to go into the details here, but this woman made him miserable and emotionally abused him for many years. She is the executrix because she insisted he make her the executrix. And she wants me and my sister to not exist. We will fight. It just sucks. I'm really broke. My sister manages a restaurant and she has hired me part time to wash dishes. It hurts my neck and back a lot but it helps. Still my car payment and insurance is $620 a month. My income is maybe $200 more than that. With food, gas, and toiletries, I'm really not doing well. My partner helps a lot. But I still owe my cousin $853 bc he helped me with down payment for my car. And my student loans are all behind, in default.. They're with collection agencies so I don't even know how to fix it, whenever I've spoken to representatives, they just keep asking me to borrow money from someone and pay them right now. I don't have anyone to borrow from. I know some of them have disability programs where your loan is taken out of default or whatever bc of disability. I am disabled legally. The amount I work is not full time. But my father was in contact with the collection agencies before he died. I'm too scared to try and talk to them myself. I get very nervous and intimidated. Maybe I should see a credit counselor. That costs money though.
I don't care about anything. I don't enjoy much. Every day I just keep thinking of my dad. How unfair it is. How he didn't deserve this. 67? You aren't supposed to die at 67. He was supposed to walk me down the aisle. Meet his grandkids.
We had so many little jokes and references no one else would understand.
His wife took a photograph of him after she discovered him dead. She made me look at it. I can't get the image out of my head. Yes, it was the same position he slept in, and he sort of looked like he was sleeping, but he wasn't. It's knowing he was dead in the picture. It's too awful and cruel. He looked so... vulnerable, I don't know. It just breaks my heart remembering that picture. I want to hug him and beg him to wake up. I want to never remember that image.
I know it's now been almost exactly 4 months. But I feel just as empty and broken as I did back when it first happened. He was just a huge presence and influence in my life. He made things so much better. It was like a relief, a refreshing vacation from everything else, when I talked to or saw him. We always laughed and laughed. But I could really talk to him too. He was such a good listener. He never just waited for his turn to talk like most people. I could tell him anything. He never judged. He just listened. I can't stand being without him.
I've always believed we move on to another plane of existence when we die. But now that the person closest to me is gone I am terrified I was wrong. I need to know for sure he's still with me. I need to know I'll be with him again when I die. There have been a few little signs, things that seemed really unlikely unless it was him, but I can't prove it was. I had a few dreams he was with me telling me he's okay, but he always disappeared quickly or I woke up shortly after. I want something definite. I can't bear never being with him ever again.
There are so, so many people who deserved to die more than him. I could've handled the death of literally anyone, besides one of my parents. I love them more than anything in the world. Why couldn't I instead have lost all my limbs? I'd much rather live in a vegetative state than for him to die. Why him? He was just good. He suffered so, so much. I can't get used to this. Everyone expects me to be okay so when I have to be around people, I act like I am. But I'm really thinking about him the whole time. Even with Ray, I know he is sick of me talking about my dad and how much I miss him so I wait til he's asleep to cry. But it's always here. I don't know how to accept it because it shouldn't have happened.
I know my dad wanted nothing more than for me to be happy. I know he would not like me to dwell and obsess on his death forever. He'd want me to move on. I just don't see how. There's nothing to look forward to. The person who propped me up, helped me face life, is gone. What's supposed to motivate me now, especially now that there's so much less good, so much less to make me want to keep being here?
Literally not one person reads this. I guess I put this here because it bothered me that the last entry was so long ago. In case someone from my past without social media only knew of my livejournal, they could read about my life here.