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In reply to the discussion: Where's the Worst Place You've Ever Spent the Night? [View all]VOX
(22,976 posts)My parents had been on the road, returning from a trade organization national meeting in Sacramento, where my dad addressed the group with his farewell/retirement speech. On the return trip south, my dad pulled off the road in Palmdale, drove to a gas station, got out of the car, and was dropped by a massive heart attack. He was taken by paramedics to a local hospital where he died.
Some family friends informed me of the situation, and were able to pick up my mom and the car. I met them at the family house. My mom was in complete shock, and I was in no great shape myself.
It fell upon me to call my older brother and talk him through his immediate reaction. I opened the hospital bag containing my dads things: clothes that were stained with blood (still a mystery to me), a mechanical Swiss watch that was still ticking (that was a tough personal moment), and shoes that my dad had gotten re-soled just that morning.
Everything was completely surreal that night, sleeping in the same house where I was conceived and raised, but now absent a father at age 31, and filled with blind grief. You cry so much that your tears go literally dry, leaving just the sobbing.
Sudden deaths of loved ones are incredibly hard on the living. Lingering deaths take their toll, to be sure, but at least there is time to process the sad outcome. But the gone-in-a-flash departures will really flatten you.
Im now two years older than my dad was when he died. Long ago, I made a deal with the spirit of my father: for every year that I surpass your lifespan, you can experience the world through my senses. Silly and childish, I know, but that idea remains a source of comfort.