I last talked to my father Thursday night. We are trying to sell Jasmine’s old car, and I had a few questions about it.
I didn’t hear from him on Friday or Saturday, so I texted him a couple of times Sunday, and I got no response. I called both his home phone and his cell, and both went straight to voicemail. I was worried despite his stellar health, so I called his sister, my aunt. She came and picked me up, and we went to his house. One of his vehicles was outside. Neither of us had keys, and my aunt didn’t know the code to open the garage. There were three days worth of newspapers on his porch and some packages, and a ton of mail in the mailbox.
We called the police to do a wellness check, and after some time they procured a ladder from a neighbor and they managed to get into a second story window. They came out the front door after a few minutes and asked us to come sit downstairs in the kitchen. I was shaking.
As soon as the cop said “There’s no easy way to say this,” I became hysterical. They told us that my dad had apparently died peacefully in his sleep earlier that weekend.
My father was the picture of good health. He exercised daily and watched what he ate. He took no medication. He never got sick. To the best of my knowledge, he was not exposed to COVID. It makes no sense.
I wanted to go up and see him, but both the police and the coroner told me that I shouldn’t. They said that it would be best to remember him the way that he was. I was crushed. I saw the funeral home staff bring my dad’s body out in a body bag. I have never felt such despair.
How can my vibrant, eclectic, brilliant, hot-headed, karaoke-rapping, inventive dad be gone? Just like that? No warning? Nothing? How can my daughter’s grandpa be gone? I cannot wrap my mind around it.
I sobbed the five hours I was at my dad’s, and I have been weeping since I got home. Sleep is impossible. I don’t know what to do. I have to find his will in order to see what his wishes were as far as a funeral and plan that out. He owns a couple properties, and I have to find out when rent is due. I have to find his phone and get a hold of the lady who schedules his jobs, and also his friends. I have to stop his newspapers and magazines. I have to find his keys.
This feels insurmountable. I feel such a heavy sense of grief. I just want my dad.