I have in my hands the death certificate.
I now know that he was "DOA".
I now know the address of the house he died at.
I now know where he was living - though it looks to be a campground and that makes no sense.
I now know he died "within minutes" - though he was not pronounced for 40 minutes - I imagine when he got to the hospital.
The words are "absorption of illicit substance to a toxic level"
I do not know why this piece of paper makes me cry so hard.
I do know why this piece of paper gives me an anxiety attack.
And I called my Dad who is usually my emotion dumping ground, and he just upset me even more. "Amazing how one stupid night has cost you so much pain in 14 years."
"Well, this is what God planned. He had a reason, who am I to question why He picked that man to by my son's dad?"
No, no, my dad continues. It was free will. God had nothing to do with it. It was your bad choice.
What I HEARD from this conversation is that my supposedly devout Catholic dad thinks my children are not gifts from God but mistakes.
And so I am even more upset now.
And to top it off I was to have date number two with the gentleman from a couple of Friday's ago tonight - but he had to cancel - rain check he says.
I just want to curl into a ball and cry for hours.
Thanks for letting me vent.
~Eli
I have just not smoked every single day for 312 (I think) days in a row.
