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Dad Dad died. I thought I might come here and try to write something, maybe I'd feel a bit better. But I feel I can hardly say anything. There's a line in a LWIII song, "your mum's father was a tragic guy, but he was so distant, nobody knew why" and that's kind of my dad. He devoted his life mostly just to loving my mother, my crazy, delusional, irrational, narcissistic and toxic mother, my mad and loving mother, my destructive and nourishing mother. She needed badly to be loved, and autistic and distant as he was, he did his best to love her, and now she's without him, devastated. I wish I'd spent more time talking with him. He told me a memory the other day, of his first job, how there was a paymaster who'd come around and pay everyone's fortnightly salary in cash, you'd get an envelope of money and the amount was always the right amount. Sometimes we'd talk a bit about politics, economics, computers, technology. Dad, I wish I could have talked to you some more. I'm sorry I missed my chance so many times. Dad, why did you have to fuckin just die like that? I'm not ready daddy, I'm not ready, I'm not ready to live without you. Mum needs a lot of attention, I need a lot of solitude. I can't go through a funeral. God. He asked me to help him sit up in the hospital, so I did. That's the last interaction we had; he asked me to try to help make him a bit more comfortable, and I did my best. I don't know if it helped much, but I did try. Maybe I can focus on that. ~
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