He died a year ago, today at 6:27 pm. I was shopping in a Grocery Outlet when my mom first called. I couldn’t understand what she was saying because she was sobbing. 

She had dropped him off at the dialysis clinic for his second treatment. According to the EMT, he went into cardiac arrest. They worked on him there for 45 minutes before they called it. 

I remember getting in line to buy the food I had and everything feeling like a blur. When she called, she didn’t have any info as she was waiting to get back there. My sister was leaving work to pick her up and take her. 

My sister called and asked if I wanted to meet them there to be there as support for mom. I called my brother to tell him what was happening and he told me not to go there. He’s in law enforcement and has seen his share of trauma. He said I wouldn’t want to remember dad like that. So I didn’t go. I went to my parents to wait for news. Then my sister called, weeping, telling me he was gone. I had a birthday a few days later and spent that evening in a funeral home, picking out a box to put him in, knowing he was being held one floor underneath us.

I am the eldest of four and this year has been so difficult to navigate. My mom sold their house, and it closed yesterday. Honestly, that’s added to my grief. The home I last saw him in is no longer theirs. His things are gone. Things just feel disorienting. 

Anyway, I just needed to type it out. Get it out of my mind I suppose. 

They weren’t lying when they said grief isn’t linear.

The picture is from the night he died. 

Today is the first anniversary of my dad’s death