Dab_Of_Oppo
Gentlemen of the Road
Anyone mention Dio?
R.I.P. Thread
- Thread starter lobo
- Start date
hwang24
[10] Knight
Ghengis and greatone, either I am just speechless due to inability to express to you both my words of lamentation, or I wouldn't be able to say ENOUGH words to the both of you. ...and yes, I did shed a tear while just reading this.
@HRD: I'm definitely not judging or hating on you. ...and you're right, I do have to embrace my loved ones while they ARE still around.
@HRD: I'm definitely not judging or hating on you. ...and you're right, I do have to embrace my loved ones while they ARE still around.
Ghengis_John
[13] Hero
So my dad died.
I cried more before he died, because I had hoped he'd change his mind and keep trying a while longer, but he was in a lot of pain and I couldn't come right out and tell him that fighting was the right thing to do, because I saw how much he was suffering. The thing that will always bother me is that I had the chance to tell him to keep fighting. He looked right at me the day before yesterday and asked "Is this the right thing to do meho?" I wanted to tell him no, I wish I had now, but instead I told him, only he could decide that.
He was a very sweet, kind and intelligent old man. He always gave me and my brother a lot of love and rarely ever yelled and even rarer did he hit us. He'd explain to us what we did wrong and why most of the time and make us think on it. I probably owe him for a lot of elements of my personality including my argument style. He loved comics and video games, and surprised me sometimes. I remember coming home to find out he and my mom had started watching my berserk anime and were loving it. I also recall the time they watched my DVD of Machine girl while Id been away, my mom still cringing at all the gore when I asked them how it was and my dad going " ooooh I LOVED it!".
I had been the one taking care of my dad as he got sicker, there was no way my mom could lift him. After I lost my job and came back home he got worse and needed me more. The worse he got, the more he needed me, the less I looked. It was a struggle taking care of him but it was okay, i forgot all the hardship of it when he'd see me and his face would light up, when he'd call out my name with no hint of illness and all the warmth of a stone set out in the aftnernoon summer sun. I came to live for him. Now he's dead. It isn't hard, until I see reminders of his presence. His empty chair, the tv still where he left it, the light angled where he liked it. All the things he left two weeks ago, still waiting for his return. He left them behind, planning to come back to them.
There are a lot of things I have to do, call the insurance companies, look for a job, start all the funeral arrangements. At the moment though I just want to lie down in the dark and listen to the clock. Lie down and listen to the second hand mechanically ticking away like a heartbeat, the same as it always did before.
When he passed I was there, my twin brother was there and my cousin who lived with us when he was little, George, was there. He passed quieter than I'd feared he would but not as painlessly as I'd hoped he would. Certainly not as painlessly as he was promised. I can still laugh, I still notice pretty girls, life didn't end. It just got a little emptier and a little colder. There is one less person in the world who's eyes light up when they see me, one less warm giant to hug. I'll feel that for a while I figure. Look after your health, good people of eight way run. Use sunscreen, cut back on the red meat, take the stairs when you can and if you're on good terms with your folks by all means give them a hug or a call. They really don't last forever.
I cried more before he died, because I had hoped he'd change his mind and keep trying a while longer, but he was in a lot of pain and I couldn't come right out and tell him that fighting was the right thing to do, because I saw how much he was suffering. The thing that will always bother me is that I had the chance to tell him to keep fighting. He looked right at me the day before yesterday and asked "Is this the right thing to do meho?" I wanted to tell him no, I wish I had now, but instead I told him, only he could decide that.
He was a very sweet, kind and intelligent old man. He always gave me and my brother a lot of love and rarely ever yelled and even rarer did he hit us. He'd explain to us what we did wrong and why most of the time and make us think on it. I probably owe him for a lot of elements of my personality including my argument style. He loved comics and video games, and surprised me sometimes. I remember coming home to find out he and my mom had started watching my berserk anime and were loving it. I also recall the time they watched my DVD of Machine girl while Id been away, my mom still cringing at all the gore when I asked them how it was and my dad going " ooooh I LOVED it!".
I had been the one taking care of my dad as he got sicker, there was no way my mom could lift him. After I lost my job and came back home he got worse and needed me more. The worse he got, the more he needed me, the less I looked. It was a struggle taking care of him but it was okay, i forgot all the hardship of it when he'd see me and his face would light up, when he'd call out my name with no hint of illness and all the warmth of a stone set out in the aftnernoon summer sun. I came to live for him. Now he's dead. It isn't hard, until I see reminders of his presence. His empty chair, the tv still where he left it, the light angled where he liked it. All the things he left two weeks ago, still waiting for his return. He left them behind, planning to come back to them.
There are a lot of things I have to do, call the insurance companies, look for a job, start all the funeral arrangements. At the moment though I just want to lie down in the dark and listen to the clock. Lie down and listen to the second hand mechanically ticking away like a heartbeat, the same as it always did before.
When he passed I was there, my twin brother was there and my cousin who lived with us when he was little, George, was there. He passed quieter than I'd feared he would but not as painlessly as I'd hoped he would. Certainly not as painlessly as he was promised. I can still laugh, I still notice pretty girls, life didn't end. It just got a little emptier and a little colder. There is one less person in the world who's eyes light up when they see me, one less warm giant to hug. I'll feel that for a while I figure. Look after your health, good people of eight way run. Use sunscreen, cut back on the red meat, take the stairs when you can and if you're on good terms with your folks by all means give them a hug or a call. They really don't last forever.
mokamoka827
[12] Conqueror
I don't normally get involved with things like this.
But I'd like to say RIP to my younger cousins, Clara and Dmitri, who died two years ago because their stepfather was driving them to school while he was drunk. Clara was 13. Dmitri was 7.
Also, John, I am truly sorry to hear about your father. My dad and I are close and I couldn't imagine losing him. Your father sounds like a wonderful person. You and your family have my deepest condolences.
But I'd like to say RIP to my younger cousins, Clara and Dmitri, who died two years ago because their stepfather was driving them to school while he was drunk. Clara was 13. Dmitri was 7.
Also, John, I am truly sorry to hear about your father. My dad and I are close and I couldn't imagine losing him. Your father sounds like a wonderful person. You and your family have my deepest condolences.