I was "home" last week for a family emergency. Well, not so much an emergency, as an end. My father unexpectedly died. It's hard to explain to most people, because up until last December, I hadn't seen my father in 15 years. So it's not like I lost a parent. No, I lost my parent when I was 13. I grieved him back then, when my mother and I left.
He was troubled, unstable, and a loner, and so it's sad, because his life was sad, and it's sad because my grandmother (his mother) who helped raise me, outlived everyone--her son, her husband, her sister/best friend.
He died in his home due to heart problems, died alone, and no one found him for days. Take a moment to imagine the mark that leaves on the house, the imagery, the smell, the horror. I didn't dare go into the room, but the smell permeates everything: my clothes from that day, the things I put in my car, my car seats, my grandmother's bills, his laptop, which I later hacked into and was on the bed next to him when he died. I found he had a myspace (which was locked) and a Twitter (which was not). He wrote mostly mundane things on Twitter, including trips for coffee, listening to music, and his dreams of the beach. But he did make one post about seeing me for the first time in many years, and it was all I could do not to cry and be weirded out by the whole thing.
There's tons of issues regarding my grandmother's estate and guardianship that I have to deal with now, and I'm overwhelmed. One day at a time, is all I can do. In my next post, I'll show you some of the good stuff that came out of the trip, including my favorite tacky Mexican place, and sparkly jewelry.