I haven’t written in longer than a while. The reason I started writing was to try any make sense of my thoughts and feelings after my dads death, and the fact that I wasn’t sure how he passed away made understanding how I felt difficult. I thought I was going to find out this one piece of information a lot sooner than how its played out. Yesterday I received a phone call, 3 months & 3 weeks later.
He died 29th November 2014, the 333rd day of the year, sometime in the early hours of the morning, in a foreign country, in a hotel, by himself. His last message was a SMS to me. Wishing my mum a happy birthday and a money transfer number to give to her.
When he passed that bit of information destroyed me. That stupid and utterly detrimental voice in the back of my head saying that if I responded to his message maybe things would’ve been different? No logic or reason. Just a numb thought, sharp and painful. Brutal and unnecessary. Loud and consuming.
When he passed we were told that it was due to ‘terrible’ circumstances. That it was most likely foul play. However a second opinion was going to be made to ensure this was the case. At first that seemed perfectly appropriate. The only problem was that second opinion was going to take a lot longer then we expected.
The conclusion is that it wasn’t foul play. That apparently his heart was 6 times the size of a normal person, and that it was most likely something to do with the heart… A little bit of me feels like this might of been the easier option. That if it was the previous opinion that maybe some felt like it was too much work. That when we were given the coroners report there was some false information that made me second guess its legitimacy.
“Because of the nature of a second autopsy, it’s hard to come to an accurate conclusion due to the level of previous embalming.”
– He wasn’t embalmed after the first autopsy. Which is a fact, one because the country in which it happened doesn’t practice embalming because its against its religion and they don’t have the resources. Also because the funeral director told us.
There were a few other minor details, like the date of death was incorrect. The lack of evidence or information they got from the 4th world country which they said made it hard. Which makes me think, why bother with anything other than simple.
Heart attack is simple. Its more likely, and at the end of the day majority always wins.
When I first started this blog my initial post was about differentiating the two possibilities…
17th December, 2014
“So I’m about to experience a horrible day. Depending on what I find out, I’m also going to have a horrible week… and time is going to continue drifting by in a horrible manner for a horrible length of time. However, if what I find out happens to be the alternate outcome, time won’t pass by horribly, but terribly.
Horrible: causing or likely to cause horror; shocking. Similar to awful, dreadful, upsetting, nightmarish.
Terrible: causing or likely to cause terror; sinister. Similar to frightful, loathsome, hateful, monstrous.
If someone suddenly dies of natural causes, by himself, away from his loved ones, that is horrible.
If someone dies at the hands of someone else, away from his loved ones, that is terrible.
Those are my possible outcomes, and that someone is my father.”
So I have my answer, and the answer is horrible. Although I have to admit… I’m still skeptical, when you’re initially told something else its hard to accept something else. Especially when it took so long to find any shade of acceptance to begin with, something that altered my view on things. Shade to protect me from the radiating pain of the unknown, of the unwelcome and of the constantly changing moods and feelings that came with guessing, assuming and realizing.
Guessing what happened, assuming how it could’ve happened, realizing that in the end it doesn’t really matter. Because at the end it doesn’t change anything, he’s not here anymore. Although the plots and story lines are completely different and the genres are opposite – thriller vs. drama.
I’m writing not to feel, not to help myself understand. I’m writing because this blog helped me when I needed it, it was there when I didn’t let anyone else in. I feel like I owe it. What’s a beginning without an end. I feel like this blog needed closure as much as I did.
I’m not saying this is the last time I post. Just the end to a chapter.
Til next time x