Day 440 Raging Into The Abyss

When I woke two days ago, my first thoughts before removing my CPAP mask was, “Fuck yiu and your shitty-assed genes!!!” Furious at my dead parents for birthing me, and furious at how for decades they lived in a cloud of delusion about how shitty their health was, oblivious to it until the day they couldn’t ignore it anymore, and yet, they continued to ignore it. 

Then I realized, oh shit, it was my dad’s birthday. And so it recommences the annual ritual of grief, which takes me from his birthday on 9/16 to the date of the surgery which silenced him on 9/26, concluding with 10/24 his date of death 28 days later. 

Before my feet even touched the floor, I was already awash in a mix of emotions, with the most pronounced thoughts percolating to the surface: here it is 17 years later, and though that acute intense loss immediately following his death has been blunted by time, I continue to miss my dad and the silence left behind is still difficult to navigate. 

Here I am, age 57, literally 10 years away from the age he was when he died, and I am going through A LOT of medical appointments & exploration for my issues, and wish he were here for support (which he actually was great at providing), as I have so many questions that have to go unanswered, and can only deduce the answers as I get my own answers from my doctors. 

It is selfish I know, to wish my dad were here to help me, but I also think it is a normal impulse given how close we were.