Today is my 19th Birthday and all I could think about today was about how my Father would not be calling me to wish me a Happy Birthday. You see, he died (a year ago on October 9th) and I miss him. A lot. It's a pretty confusing thing though truthfully because my parents got divorced when I was 14 because he had a drug problem and he moved out. He was still in the same county as me but I rarely saw him. When I turned 15 we started to talk again (mostly because my mom left me alone to go be with her new bf and I wanted one of my parents with me) and I got attached to him again, regardless of his problems I loved him. However when I turned 17 I moved out of the county to live with my oldest sister and help her take care of her son. We drifted apart some after that but…I dont' know, I guess anyone would take one of their parents dying suddenly hard.
You see what happened is he got really drunk one night at his house, passed out and on the way down to the floor hit his head on a table. He landed on his back and was unconscious because of all the alcohol and not the concussion he had. In the middle of the night he threw up in his mouth and he went into his lung and he drowned to death. The EMT's got there and worked for 45 minutes to get his heart to start back up (even though I'm pretty sure they are supposed to give up way before then). By the time they brought him back he was brain dead and the doctor told us that he was going to die anyway, his blood pressure kept dropping even though they had him on the max meds for it. So my family stood around his hospital bed and told them to unplug the machines. I watched the man that I called Father stop breathing, I watched his face turn blue. I watched him die and I still don't think I've really accepted the fac that he's gone.
Wow, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to go off on that but I guess I needed to get it out of my system.
I don't know. I guess that's it? Happy birthday to me.