A year ago today, my Dad died.
Never found out the exact cause. Step-father found him unresponsive in his bed. It sucks. It sucks and I hate it and I wish he was still here.
He played a lot of guitar. Sometimes I'd hear him playing all the way down in the basement. It occurs to me that I'll never hear that sound again. Never get to show him something stupid on the internet again. Never get to sit and eat dinner and tell each other about Stuff.
I'm afraid of dying. I know it'll happen to me. It happens to everyone, no one gets to escape it. I would do anything to prevent it. Or barring that, ensure that there is some form of existence after death. Some people are okay with oblivion. I take no comfort in non-existence.
I honestly thought he'd outlive me. Next year I'll be half as old as he ever was.
Really put into perspective how much of my youth I wasted. Not just on hobbies that went nowhere, but also just not sharing enough of my time or my dumb nerd hobbies with him. I was always too scared to "bother" him. Even though he wouldn't have been upset or anything. But I respected him so much, and I thought I'd have more time later.
Death is closer to me today than it was 10 years ago, or 20 years ago. I wish I had that time back.
I've been writing fan-fiction of the video game "Monster Prom" for about half a year now. It's kept me busy during quarantine. It's been an outlet. But like everything I've ever done, it will be regarded by a handful and forgotten. Whatever legacy I leave behind will also die. Even if I somehow gain fame posthumously, I'll never know it or see it.
There was so much I wanted to do and to be, and to show him. But death is the end of everything. And if I ever do amount to anything, he'll never know it. I robbed him of that.
And also, I think he loved me a lot, and didn't care if I became Space President or whatever. But when I think of what an annoying brat I was growing up, I wish I'd done more to repay the childhood he helped give me. I wish I could visit his old apartment in Toronto back then, with the ratty but comfy couch, the box fan on top of a milk crate, the X-Men and music memorabilia. I didn't need to have long, philosophical discussions with him. I just liked HIM. He didn't need to be a [BIG SHOT].
...Maybe I don't need to be too dang Important either.
If nothing else, it made me make sure to spend more quality time with other family members.
Life sucks, but it's the only one we've got.
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