Ironically, I still giggle at the thought of his death certificate. His cause of death is listed as “myocardial infarction as a result of ventricular tachycardia”. The word “infarction” seems both inappropriate and completely underwhelming considering the number of people affected by it on the daily. Plus, who wants a cause of death that sounds like you died as a result of a huge fart after eating too much spicy food? But, if you knew my dad and his sense of humor, it almost seems fitting.

This anniversary of his death blows. And for more than one reason. It is year 24. That means my father has been gone from my life longer than he was in it. I still cannot process that. There is a part of me that was brought to an abrupt halt at the age of 23, and as such, it will always be that 23-year-old little girl puking in an emergency room bathroom on her way to see her dad on a gurney. I’m not sorry about it. It’s a reminder of how short and precious life is. That lesson may be the ONLY good thing that came out of his passing.

Sucky reason #2: My mom is battling cancer. Hurthle Cell Carcinoma to be exact. A rare form of thyroid cancer. This is round 2 for her and it has jumped to both of her lungs. Later this week we will receive the results of her PET scan. My mom is elderly and she has been battling her way through some health issues the last couple of years, and this diagnosis was just completely unnecessary.

Historically I reserve this day to just completely fall apart over the memory of my dearly departed Daddy. I am prone to random crying fits, a refusal to get out of bed, and zero (and I mean ZERO) productivity. It just depends on how I’m feeling at the moment. I also, do not apologize for that. I think it is what has kept me sane. My father’s sudden death was the most traumatic experience of my life (tied only by a later custody battle that I did not start nor want to participate in), but I do not understand folks who go to pieces and refuse to move forward. Everyone dies. Eventually.

That being said, I do believe in grief and processing in productive ways and reserving the anniversary of his death to feel all the things, has been my coping mechanism. The rest of the year it’s Camel cigarettes and avoidance, or inappropriate dark humor or cynicism. So on this day, I feel all the feels, do what feels the best for this moment, and on the 28th of October, I arise and move forward as if it never happened. I do this because I have told myself that my dad died, the world kept turning, and I still had to function. And so I do.

On THIS particular anniversary, things are different. Mom’s cancer diagnosis has thrown a whole a** monkey wrench in my grief process. I took this awful day and used it to my benefit. Today I looked up, printed out, reviewed in detail with mom, and then filled out her Do Not Resuscitate and Healthcare Directives forms. I figured this day is sh*t anyways, I might as well lump something else into it so I do not have an excuse to fixate on another crappy day.

Mapping out the plan for your only surviving parent’s demise is a surreal experience. For my entire adult life, I have opposed the death penalty with a vengeance. Today feels like when I typed in her name on the DNR form, I signed her death warrant. She feels it too because when I walked in and said “we need to go over this today” she said to me “what’s that? My death warrant?” Thanks, Mom!

Funny thing about this bullshit disease (at least for me) is the waves of processing it. I’m okay, until I’m not. When I’m not it’s either this blank numb feeling or uncontrollable crocodile tears. When I’m okay it’s sarcasm. It’s a rollercoaster. Will it always be like this? Will I eventually just pick a struggle and be stuck in one emotional response or another? I have no idea. My brain has been scrambled for a few years now between anxiety, postpartum depression and now this. I’m not saying I was batting 1,000 before all that, but I was fine.

So I am going to relish in the numbness of the day and it’s events until my husband comes home. I’ve made a crockpot dinner so I don’t have to worry about cooking and I have little people to pick up and entertain until their daddy comes home. After that I’m switching into grief mode so I can have my moment and then pull my proverbial head out of my a** and act like a functioning adult. Or you know, whatever this is that I’m doing at this perimenopausal point of my life.