The wake and burial were difficult - extremely - but not as difficult as I thought they would be. As I told a few friends, I felt some kind of grace on me throughout. Something outside of myself was carrying me along because it could have easily been a lot worse. (Having so many of my friends there was a huge part of it.)
The thing that really fucking gets me is that he died through hospital negligence. This is not a conspiracy theory my family has concocted, but the conclusion of the doctor who did the autopsy. Do you have any idea how hard it is for me to know that my father died in vain at such a young age? His life was half over by the time I was born, when he was a year younger than I am now. It's ridiculous.
It is so hard not to get angry in a world where people who are being paid an ungodly amount of money let your loved ones die because they don't feel like doing their jobs.
I go home tomorrow and am looking forward to it. I need the space and solitude.
I don't like to ask for things but your prayers may just be what is holding me up right now, so I would love it if you would keep them up. Thanks :)