WHY?

Do bad things happen to good people?  It just doesn’t make any sense. I found out a couple of days ago that my father has been diagnosed with Lou Gerhigs disease. I got the phone call from my mother and I really just went into complete shock. I really didn’t know much about the disease.  I confused it with Parkinsons disease for some reason and thought he’d still live a long life with complications. Little did I know how debilitating the diesease truly is.

After some internet research, I discovered that about 50% of people with this disease live from 3-5 years longer on average after diagnosed with it. It really depends on the person and how far along they are in the stages. In rare cases, people have lived 10 years or more, but that is a very low percentage.

Death and dying is a topic I am not exactly comfortable with. I suppose it is because the notion of death still frightens me. I mean, what’s the point of living when you are just going to die anyways?  What’s the purpose of this whole charade?  Surely it is not to eat, (socialize)sleep, (socialize) crap (socialize)and work like most of use do every day. Is it?? Are we suppose to just learn one heartbreaking lesson after another?  Really, truly sometimes I feel like this hell people speak of is what we are living in right now. Maybe there is a heaven and like I dream, it’s the picture of paradise, where you are as skinny as you want to be, men are charming, good looking,  AND honest, and you laze by the pool sipping dacquiris and eating whip cream talking about what all those lying cheating aholes are doing in hell. Okay, I kind of went off on a tangent there, but the point is, I guess existentiality is a something we’ve all pondered at some point or another.  I am jealous of people that can accept death as a natural cause and not worry about when or why it’s going to happen.  Is there any way for me to become more comfortable with this?

Well, I guess you could say I have been a bit discombobulated by this turn of  events. My father and I have never been extremely close. While we’ve never been estranged or anything, the last time I remember having a one on one conversation with my father was probably when I was about 12. That was about the same time my parents divorced, and although I saw him on a weekly basis after the divorce, we’ve just never had one of those close relationships. I believe that in a way, he really did not know how to relate to a girl so we never developed a close bond. I mean, I hit the teengage years and was more concerned with spending time with my friends than my dad. So, it was never really anyone’s fault.  It just happened.

Right about now I wish I could figure out some way to turn back time, and to find a way to bond with him so we knew each other better. I can’t look him in the eyes knowing that he is dying. The last couple days I have been crying more than I ever thought was possible. Hopefully, I can cry until my system runs dry, so that I can go to him and be strong when I speak.

I am going to need as many friends as I can possibly get for a while. A huge thanks to all of you that have supported me thus far. People have come out of the woodworks to comment about this and I appreciate it more than words can express. Every little bit helps, and everything gets better in time, right?? I love you all.

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