The End.
It was a standard middle of the night hospital trip. He was having trouble breathing. Dealt with this too many times to count. He's survived worse. He's been through hell and back. Hell, he's been dead twice before and got better.
Except this time, it was different.
The ambulance took him away. Everyone was somewhat worried. We all decided to go out and check on him. I didn't want to go, wanted to deal with it in the morning. I still went. Brought along grandpa's rosary, just in case.
We arrived at the hospital. He didn't make it. I was crying by that point, but it didn't hit home just yet. Not even when I saw him laying there. He was pale. Sure, he looked like my dad. But, something was missing.
It wasn't until the priest arrived and was saying the last rites for the third, and final time that it sunk in.
My dad, who had fought to live for 17 years. Who had done his best to make sure we lived as normal a life as possible despite all the crap thrown his way. All the cancers, treatments, everything. My dad, the survivor. My dad, who I would sometimes jokingly say was immortal.
My dad is gone.
Dead.
I need to be able to admit it, but it's almost an alien phrase to me, gibberish: "My dad is dead."
I'm still a bit in shock
Except this time, it was different.
The ambulance took him away. Everyone was somewhat worried. We all decided to go out and check on him. I didn't want to go, wanted to deal with it in the morning. I still went. Brought along grandpa's rosary, just in case.
We arrived at the hospital. He didn't make it. I was crying by that point, but it didn't hit home just yet. Not even when I saw him laying there. He was pale. Sure, he looked like my dad. But, something was missing.
It wasn't until the priest arrived and was saying the last rites for the third, and final time that it sunk in.
My dad, who had fought to live for 17 years. Who had done his best to make sure we lived as normal a life as possible despite all the crap thrown his way. All the cancers, treatments, everything. My dad, the survivor. My dad, who I would sometimes jokingly say was immortal.
My dad is gone.
Dead.
I need to be able to admit it, but it's almost an alien phrase to me, gibberish: "My dad is dead."
I'm still a bit in shock