Perhaps it is because it is still fresh, or maybe it is because I just went to the the doctors and had to get a MRI (a tale for another day), but I thought it was time to share with you.
My dad died. I am probably going to write about this a lot. Or maybe not at all. Just this one time. I am notorious for starting something and not finishing; the classic epitome of over promising and underachieving. This isn't going to be some sad story. Or maybe it will. But I need to remember everything about the last five months. And I need to remember it in laughter. Because that was my dad, a mass of lightheartedness and laughter. Even through the pain, the endless hospital stays, and countless procedures, my dad still managed to joke and laugh with his family.
The quick wit and snark was strong too.
They told us that he had dementia. To a daughter who prides herself on being remembered as the favorite, this was a fucking nightmare. (Yes guys, this was all about me.) I will get more in to that later. Maybe it was the pride that nagged him. Being talked to like an invalid by a man several decades younger in a lab coat didn't sit well with Dad. The long drawn out sounds of "misssssttterrr Aaaanntttooonio. What is today's date?" or "whhooooo is the pressssident?"; the latter of which he never really grasped as we all agreed that the truth was too much for the old man. When the doctor would dare to ask his name he would stick his tongue out, respond with "ice cream" or "bingo" throwing the medical team in to a frenzy. Or the time that the nurse attempted to be friendly, sharing the fact that her mother shared the same birth date as my father, only for him to respond "what the fuck do I care".
In the end, he demanded his cream of wheat be buttered and slathered in maple syrup, followed by copious glasses of milk drank like it was IPA winner at the Great American Beer Festival.
This is not a long post, just a post to remember my Dad.