My dad died. Sometime in the last day. We were going to have lunch on Friday, and I showed up and he wasn't answering his phone. And I called twice. And then, I knew something was wrong. The cops broke into his place and found him, dead. Someone saw him yesterday, so it hadn't been that long. I don't know what to think about that, because I've been in town for a while and I could have seen him earlier, or maybe it was right that I came that day (now yesterday because it's 3:30 the next day) because I was there, and found him, and was able to call my brother, and we were able to make decisions and deal with things in an orderly and logical manner. The way my dad would have approved of. Where calling his mother was a later event, and she wasn't the first contact, and we were able to go through things cursorily, lock his condo, and... I don't know. I don't think it's anything anyone is ever prepared to deal with, and I certainly don't feel prepared to deal with it now.
I know that I have issues with my dad, had issues, some of which I have resolved, some of which I didn't and might not ever, and now his life is a fixed point where I really am not going to get any more answers than I already have from him. I was sitting around today, talking to the cops, making calls, and I just kept thinking, wait we were supposed to go to lunch. I was just here to take him out to lunch, and see how he was doing. Because he passed out a few weeks ago while driving, and he said it was just low blood sugar, and he was going into the doctor, and they gave him his license back so I thought oh it can't be that bad. That after seeing him, maybe talking to him about it in person and not on the phone, I would call my brother and maybe we'd talk to my dad together about giving up driving, or moving to a home of some sort with some care. Not knowing that he had fainted more times (which I found out from neighbors). I obviously don't know what all was going on. I guess it is moot now, and in some way, I am sure this easier because my dad was happy living alone in his condo, and would not have been happy if he had to live elsewhere.
I'd like to think if he had any thoughts at the end, it was that I was coming to see him, that I would find him, that I'd take care of things. I know my dad was proud of me, proud of my brother, proud of the adults we had become, adults who handle their own problems and take care of things like this. Maybe he'd be happy that my brother and I were sitting down, discussing, spending time talking. I guess I'm speculating about everything, his last wishes, his thoughts. But I knew my dad pretty well, and I remember when his father died, and how he was really sad, really kind of out of it, but couldn't talk about his feelings. And I know that I've had enough therapy to know how to start processing all this, how to deal with it all, how to feel and not be consumed by my feelings but accept them as natural. Yet, not sure if this makes anything easier at this moment.