Dad

I don't really know how to even begin writing this blog. I've started it and scrapped it about 3 times already. But I know its something that I really need to let out. So here goes.
On August 31st of this year, my father passed away. It wasn't completely out of nowhere, but when it happened, it was so fast and sudden that it was quite a shock. You see, he had been in and out of the hospital the entire month, and before that, it had been months of all of us begging him to make a doctor appointment.
 He had been having a lot of health problems, and once he finally went to the hospital, it turned out he had cirrhosis of the liver and a stomach infection, among other health issues. The doctors basically told us that he was dying, but if he took his medication, and took care of himself, it would delay it for quite some time. But one night, he kept complaining of pain, and my mom found him unconscious on the floor. Barely an hour later, he was gone.
It's still odd to me, knowing that he is gone, and that I'll never see him again.
I am glad that the last memory I have of him was a good one. It was a Wednesday morning, and my mom called me to ask if I could pick him up from the hospital, because he was being discharged. So Korisa came with me, and we picked him up. I brought my dogs too, and he was really happy about that. He always loved my dogs. He kept talking about how hungry he was (since he hated all of the hospital food) so I bought him a burger and onion rings from Burgerville. He was so happy and thankful for the gesture. I dropped him off, and went home. That was a Wednesday, and he passed away late Friday night.
Some days are better than others. Some days I can talk about it and be just fine. Other days, the smallest thing will make me lose it. One time I saw a DVD that I had been meaning to give to him, and I broke down. Or one day, I gave my mom his hospital bag that had been sitting in the back of my car for over a month, and I cried the entire drive home. Or yesterday, I was thinking about my last paper that I wrote for college, where I had to interview someone who had fought in one of the wars of this century. So I picked my dad, who had fought in The Vietnam War. I had recorded the entire interview, and I all of a sudden became curious weather or not I had deleted it from my digital recorder. I searched everywhere for it, desperate to hear the sound of his voice again. I sat and listened to it three times. I never know when or how these triggers will appear, but thankfully it  has been fairly sparse.
I can't help but feel horrible for my mother. She spends so much time worrying about all of us, and how we're handling things, that shes completely neglecting herself and her feelings. I can tell how sad she is, but I can also see that she puts on a brave face for our sake, and it makes me even sadder to know that. I know that she is our parent, and its her job to protect us, but it breaks my heart knowing how much she is hurting.
I know that death is a natural part of life. I know that i'm not the first person to lose a parent. I know that I wont be the last person to lose one, either, and I know plenty of people personally who have lost parents. So I know that this is something I will get through, as much as it does suck.