It's been a while!

As I am sitting here in bed, listening to the tv more than watching and checking my email, I finally decided now would be a good time to post a blog. It has been quite a while since I have blogged about anything and the bad thing is...I haven't posted many to begin with.

It's been 8 months since finding out about my Dad's passing and it still does not seem real to me. In the beginning, from the moment I received that most dreaded call that my Dad was gone, I literally felt like I couldn't breathe and a huge piece of my heart had been ripped right out of my chest. Deep down I knew that that call was coming but I didn't want to think about it. I went through feelings of guilt (that I could've done something more for him), I even felt anger not toward God but toward my Dad thinking that he should've stopped drinking when the doctor's told him he needed to. He always told me that he would do anything in the world for his kids and I asked and pleaded with him many times to quit. He always told me he was sorry and he would quit but for some reason, I couldn't get through to him. As I sit here and think about this, my eyes are watering. It still hurts.

The manner in which he died was sudden. He suffered esophageal varices. He was home alone when he began to bleed out. I have really struggled with the picture of this. Seeing the house, since we had to locate important documents for the funeral home in order to give him a military service, looked like a murder scene like something you would see on CSI. That image will always be in my head. I couldn't believe that this had happened to him. I didn't want to believe that it had happened to him. I kept thinking about what it must've been like, what he suffered, and what he must've been thinking. Looking at the scene of my childhood home, it really looked like he struggled. I hate that he had to go through that. I hate that it happened at all.

From the moment of finding out about his passing, all the decisions I had to make and quickly too, I really didn't have time to just grieve. Yes, there was lots a crying to the point my eyes were puffy and red but I didn't really have the chance to just let go. Another very hard thing for me was that because he died alone in his home, it was a couple of days before anyone found him. One of his school buddies went to check on him and found him. No one was able to see him that one last time. His body was sent to the Savannah Crime Lab for autopsy and toxicology and we were told that as soon as he arrived at the funeral home, he would have to be placed in a sealed casket. I feel like I needed to be able to view him for closure, that this was all real, but I have to believe that God knew what he was doing and maybe I wouldn't have been able to see him like that anyway.

Yesterday, I received a copy of his autopsy and toxicology report. Other than the chronic ethanolism that killed him, he was really healthy. Every day, I think about him and wished he was here. I wished that there was something I could've done. I have to have hope that maybe I can influence someone else to not drink. My Dad was the sweetest person. He was very giving. He was loving. He had a great sense of humor and he was an awesome story-teller. I can still hear the sound of his voice and I suppose I will never forget it. I have thought many times about going to an AA meeting just to tell his story in hopes that maybe I can help someone else. I haven't went yet and not sure if or when I will have the strength to do so to actually go and speak. But maybe one day soon, I will.