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Well, life goes on. Yesterday was what would have been my father's 61st birthday. It's weird not having him here to celebrate it. I'm not crying as much, but the pain is still there. I was going to plan a party with friends to celebrate my dad's birthday, but life get in the way as it sometimes does. In the later half of August, my elderly neighbor slipped on her back porch and fell down her back steps. She's in her eighties, so her bones are very fragile. She broke her righ shoulder, right ribs, and her left hip. The hospital was going to do surgery, but she was in poor health. Her salt level was dropping, so they gave her fluids. This caused liquid to build in her lungs and it was a whole mish mish for a while. But, her levels were becoming normal. However, my neighbor had broken both of her arms, her back, and had a double bypass within the time frame of seven years. So the doctors were saying she wouldn't survive the surgery. In the last week of August, my mother paid her a visit in the hospital and she was doing better. Sadly, I don't have a happy ending. My neighbor, Karlyn, died late that night in her sleep.
We still try and push on. It's just weird when everything you know gets turned upside down.
We still try and push on. It's just weird when everything you know gets turned upside down.
Almost . . .
It's November, much to my dislike. On the 24th of this month, it will officially have been a year since my father passed away. I'm not crying as much, but I still have my moments. One minute I'll be dealing with his absence and then all of a sudden I'm a mess again. It's hard to believe it's almost been a year. I still miss him everyday. Until he died, the longest I had been away from my father was two weeks. He had his flaws, but everyone does. But that man sacrifised so much for my mother and me. And I don't care that he never had the fame or money, but my father was one of the best self-taught musicians that ever lived. That man would prac
rough road
It's been rough, I won't lie. Some days I have it together, and other days I don't. But everythign was going good until someone asked me this question that I am so sick and tired of.
"What are you going to do with your dad's ashes?"
For the love of God, I am so sick and tired of hearing that question. Everybody who asks that keeps telling me, more like demanding, that I bury my father's ashes. They won't even entertain the thoguht of spreading them. WHY CAN'T THEY TRY AND UNDERSTAND THIS?! MY DAD DID NOT WANT TO BE BURIED!!!!!!
The idea of being sealed in a box and buried underground scared the living crap out of my dad. I know he's dead n
The Beat Goes on
It's almost been five months since my father passed away, and the pain still hurts. I won't lie, there are days when I feel okay and fon on. But then there are days where I just can't stop myself from crying all day. I took a month off from work to try and adjust, and it did help. But the one thing I am sick of is some of these people who act like I should get over it already. Get over it, just like that?
Well, let me tell you something you God amn shit eating mother fuckers out there. I don't give a flying fuck what you pricks think! I had a father that did his fucking best to raise me! There would be days where he wouldn't eat just to make
Devious Journal Entry
Sorry it's been so long since I've updated. The simplist explination is that life got in teh way. But it may be longer before I update again. I regret to inform everyone that my father passed away on Thanksgiving morning at the age of sixty. I'm not sure when that will be. Thank you for being patient with me.
FAH3
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Comments2
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My condolences, as well.