He is fine. He will be fine. He has to be fine.

He is fine. He will be fine. He has to be fine. Image Description: My Dad I don't want to be here. I don't want to be writing this. I don't want to have to try to capture my dad and our family in a freaking blog. It pisses me off. I feel some need to do this in order yo remember the details and timeline so I can begin to grieve. It's hard. I don't want to be here. I don't want to do this. I'm so damn angry.

Grief for me, starts off with shock/denial and then moves to anger.

As I sit here, trying to recall the past and dig up old memories to make this make sense, I become more irate.

A perfectionist by nature, I want this done right but I feel like it won't ever get done if i stick to my usual routine. It's going to be scrappy and scattered.

My sister went on a cruise with my dad at the end of 2022. She said he couldn't remember where his room was, he felt uncomfortable going anywhere without her (not like my dad btw) she said he could sit down at the blackjack table and win money though! He peed himself on that cruise. I remember her telling me that and I was wrecked hearing it. Talking about it here, now, it still guts me. My dad is my protector, he's this strong ass man so I began to ask her, "what do you mean he peed on himself? Was he drunk? Could he not make it to the bathroom on time? What happened?" Without really giving her time to respond, I spit out questions at her like bullets, rapid and back-to-back.

I Called my mom asking," what's happening to dad? Is he ok?"

My mom said, " he's fine? What do you mean?" I mention the peeing and she made it seem like no biggie so I moved on.

As weeks pass, I continue to ask my mom about my dad's health and we both conclude it has to be his heart. He's continuing to get it tested, it's his heart. It's his heart. They'll fix whatever is happening. He'll be just fine. It's his heart.

It's his heart.

He'll be fine.

It's his heart.

 He'll be fine.

He has to be fine.