I've wanted to write for so long, and a lot has happened since January ('22). My father died the day after the New Year; he went on December 15; that morning, he seemed fine, then after he went upstairs, he started getting unresponsive, not answering my mother, or wasn't right. I had a bad feeling and told my mother to call an ambulance. Oh, my fucking Christ, was that a shit show!! ๐Ÿคนโ€โ™‚๏ธ I can't bring it up to my mother, the last time I went on a rant about how the paramedics dicked around and should not have been listening to my father's fucking bullshit about not going unless they let him go to the bathroom to pee. I got so aggravated that I yelled up to everyone and said,

"give him that plastic urinal thing, and let's GO!!"(FFS) It was absolutely ridiculous. Of course my mother says nothing.

I had just gotten a puppy the day before, mind you. My father's the one that found the ad for those puppies. He planted the seed. That's all I needed. He even saved that part of the paper. And he could be impaired due to his short-term memory loss, so yeah, he knew id take that and fucking RUN!! He knew what he was doing. You know what? I don't know how I would've gotten through my father's death, seeing him in the hospital like that. I try not to think about it; I'm not an emotional person. Wait, that's a fucking lie. I can be very passionate, but I'll hide and either have a freak-out or ill go to my special place by my favorite tree, Fagus grandifolia, my beautiful beech tree. I can see the house, and when the slider opens and I see my mother's head looking for me with that look. The no more wire hangers look. I'm a paragraph. Click here to add your own text and edit me. I'm a great place for you to tell your story and let your visitors know a little more about you.