My dad died on Saturday. God it is so hard to say that. I am 18 years old, and I wasn't (am not) ready for him to die. I thought that I would have more time. We were never really close, but I loved him and he loved me. He was a wonderful man. He was a preacher, always super positive, loved everyone no matter what,never said anything bad about anybody. He was diagnosed with pulmonary fibrosis, they said he would live another year probably. He lasted 1 month. Luckily, he was completely and totally fine, until the last day. There was no slow, painful decline, he didn't have to suffocate. The bad thing about that though, is that we weren't expecting it.
My sister and her husband came over and daddy was laughing and cutting up. He had been having a rough day though, the first rough day he had had. he couldn't catch his breath, he had a panic attack. After he got calmed down and the doctor said he was okay, he decided to take a nap. We were all in the living room. I was playing my newest song on the piano, trying to memorize it, when Mama went to check on him. She called us, and we all ran to the back just as he died. I was playing the piano when he breathed his last breath.
I feel horrible because I never got to apologize for anything I'd ever done, I didn't tell him I love him,I didn't get to tell him goodbye. And yes I know he already knows, but still. I feel like something has been left undone. Something that I cannot ever fix.
I am terrified that he felt alone, that he didn't know we were there. We weren't there holding his hands. I am terrified that he tried to call out for us. And we didn't hear. I will always regret that the last thing I said was, "if you need anything, yell." What if he couldn't?
Then we had to plan the funeral. That was horrible. It just doesn't seem real. All these people, telling me they are sorry, and it just doesn't matter how sorry they are, they can't bring him back. It all went by in a blur. I remember the first shovelful of dirt that hit the casket when they buried him. I remember every single one that followed.
The family came and stayed, so the house was full. But they left, and now the house is empty, and every single minute goes on and on. I went to town with mama, and when we got back I called out to let him know we were home. Luckily mama didn't hear. I sort of lost my mind then. I knew he was gone. That he wasn't there, but I had to check every room. I had to make sure it was real. He will never ask me how my day was again. He will never cook me breakfast, or tell me how good my newest song is. He wil never see me graduate or get married. He will never give me a grocery list, or fall asleep in his chair. He will never play his harmonica, or call his best friend. He's just gone, just like that. And nothing I do will bring him back.