I’m having a hard time with the fact that you didn’t deserve to die.
There are the typical cliché sayings that “he had a blessed life” or “at least you had him while you did” or “everything happens for a reason”.
But they’re all bullshit.
If your life was blessed, you’d still be living it.
It doesn’t matter whether you had a good upbringing, a good family, a good career, good health, a good relationship with God, a good heart, a good soul, a good life.
Clearly, none of those things actually made a difference for you in the end.
Yes, I had you for 21 years, but I wanted so much more.
I want what I see others have. I want my dad to be here for everything that he should be here for. College graduation. New marriages. Grandchildren being born. Family gatherings. Vacations. Lessons being learned. Memories being made. Successes. Failures. Loving and being loved in return.
We both deserved that.
If everything happens for a reason, what’s the answer?
I know that I shouldn’t question God, or the universe, or whoever or whatever else because it isn’t up to me, but I’m only human. So I am questioning.
Why’d this happen? What’s the reason? Why’d you have to go?
I know that it’s childish to say, but it isn’t fair.
What happened to you isn’t fair. The aftermath isn’t fair. You missing out on life isn’t fair. The only way to visit you being a trip to a stone-cold tomb isn’t fair.
Your death wasn’t fair.
Of all people, why was it you?
Instead of you, it should’ve been all of the hateful and vile people in this world. They all get to live far longer than you ever got to, and for what? For what?
I know that’s not a kind way to think and I shouldn’t wish harm on anyone, but I can’t help it.
I don’t know.
I guess what I’m trying to say is that I’m struggling with all of this anger that I have inside over your death.
Anger that I’m losing control of. Anger that’s limitless. Anger at you, at the medical world, at God, at the universe, at our loved ones, at myself. Anger that has nowhere to go but in a circle, ’round and ’round inside of me. Anger that I know you wouldn’t be proud of.
And sadness, too. There’s always this terrible sadness.
I’m sorry for that, Dad.
I’m sorry for what happened to you. I’m sorry for being angry, and hurt, and lost, and sad. I’m sorry for all of the things that I could’ve and should’ve done better. I’m sorry for not telling you how much I loved you every single day while I still had the chance. I’m sorry for how shitty of a card you were dealt. I’m sorry that this life can be so cruel.
I’m sorry for…well, everything, really.
But you didn’t deserve to die.
