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My dad passed from a brain aneurysm about two years ago. He worked too much and didn't focus on his health. He had gotten lucky and recovered from one aneurysm two years before but just...rolled the dice poorly I guess. He was stubborn about taking medication afterwards and it took a lot of coaxing and consistent following up. He didnt like the side effects or drowsiness and played it loose - thats just who he was.
He had just laid down to sleep and I woke up hearing my mum screaming. He was yelling and groaning. The last thing he said to me as I dialed for the Ambulance was "My head hurts".
I can't remember the last thing I said to him.
I keep thinking if there was more I could of done, or if I did too much. If I pushed a little harder maybe he would have been convinced. Maybe if I pushed less he would've been less stubborn about it. Neither answer really gives me comfort. He was only 59.
The thing that sucks the most is that he'll never get to see me play out and execute on all the lessons he tried to teach me, be a granddad or just....slow down and stop working.
I have this dream that plays out in my head where I have kids, he's retired and he spends time coming to pick them up from the park like he used to when I was a kid.
Now I'm in my early 30s and I'm part way through playing out that dream... knowing that it wont be the same. I fucking hate it.
Its hard to explain. I still have loved ones but its not the same.
I've accepted that I'm never going to be okay. I just wish I said and did more.
I miss him.
