Everyone Dies

So not too long after my mum died, my dad died.

My dad's passing is a lot easier to process and interact with mentally. And the reason behind that is I've had a difficult/non-existent relationship with him.

My dad physically and psychologically abused my mum when she was with him. He hit me too.

I used to want his approval because he disapproved of me/what I was doing. To be fair, I wasn't doing much with my life as a teen, but when he'd see me maybe once a year and tell me what I needed to do, it doesn't foster any closeness. Resentment, if anything.

So, him dying, doesn't hit me as my mum's death did.

For me, it's not the loss of a parent, of someone who loved me unconditionally, who I knew, who knew me, who I loved and spent the majority of my life with. It's the death of a possibility. The possibility of having a relationship with my dad, of having a father like everyone else.

To the people he kept in touch with, mainly my family on his side, he was a funny uncle or brother who was also an abusive dick. They've tried to contact me, but I can't engage with that, with them, because of him, and in that respect I feel sorry for him and them. To know that his son doesn't want to engage with their grief, and with his passing. I feel bad for that too.

It's given me a sense of my mortality, though. Both my parents died under 60 and I'm 30. So if we're going by their track record, I'm more than halfway through.

I'm going to try to prioritise my health. Not so much that I can live longer, but so that I can enjoy the years I have left to the fullest.