This is the epitome of pure, unfiltered, depressing word vomit

I started this blog with the sole intention of it being all flash fiction, prose, and poetry (or something resembling poetry), but I’m in a very strange place filled with very strange emotions. And, well, what good is a blog if I can’t get super raw, personal and real at least once?

I’m in the ICU next to my comatose father, typing this on my phone which I’m not supposed to have in here. I’m by myself at the moment so that my mother and sister can maybe get a moment of sleep. They were here all night last night, when it all first happened. I live 4 hours away, so I wasn’t here when he fell.

I don’t mind taking the night shift tonight. Especially since he’ll be dead sometime tomorrow.

I know you should never say never and all that, but it would be beyond a miracle if he ever woke up. Permanent brain damage starts to happen after 5 minutes without oxygen. He went without oxygen for an hour.

So my dad is alive, but he’s gone. His heart is beating. He is breathing. But my father isn’t here anymore. 

And as its all unfolded, the drama and the tension, I’ve just been fluctuating between this weird mode of not-quite-acceptance of the situation and crushing despair.  There’s no real room for grieving yet because he’s not technically dead, but at the same time he has a breathing tube down his throat, his pupils aren’t dilating or responding to light, and there’s no brain activity. It’s a ‘we won’t know for sure until the morning’ situation, technically, but it’s really not. I keep periodically and preemptively losing my shit, waiting for him to officially die. It’s been this way all day. There’s still at least 12 more hours of this to go.

Anyway, I hope you all don’t think I’m writing this because I want sympathy and attention. I actually hate all of that, I haven’t personally told anyone because what can anyone else do? Hearing that my dad is in your prayers does nothing for me, sorry. The gesture is nice and all, but an onslaught of such texts or comments or whatever wouldn’t make someone like me feel better. I’m more of an emotional turtle. I prefer to hide in a shell and deal with this shit on my own whenever possible. 

It’s a tendency I got from my dad.

No, I’m dumping all of this on here because this blog is, in its own way, a bit of an abstract diary for me. All of my posts generally relate to what I was going through at the time. I look back at them sometimes and think, ‘oh yeah, I remember writing that in Prospect Park when I was living with my friend Elizabeth in Broklyn, and the weather was perfect’, or ‘that post was right after I found out we’d be leaving New York to move to Indiana’.

Well, I didn’t want to make up some fucking story for this. There isn’t any metaphorical language that could possibly encompass how I feel, sitting here in the ICU. I didn’t want to romaticize it with some more digestible narrative.

This is real and it is horrible. I’m alone in a room with the empty, breathing body of what used to be my father, wondering why I let a job I don’t like stop me from coming home for Thanksgiving a few weeks ago, knowing that it’s over and yet being unable to just let that last little flickering light of hope go out because his heart is still beating. 

This sucks. This sucks, this sucks, this sucks. 

There’s still at least 12 hours to go.


21 thoughts on “This is the epitome of pure, unfiltered, depressing word vomit

    • Oh, I wasn’t alone in that way. I had support. It was just that my sister and mom had already been there for over a day straight and once I got there they could finally go home and shower and stuff, since I could stay.

      I just happened to be alone that night.

      But thank you for the hugs regardless. He passed a few days ago and the funeral is today. Life is fleeting, and there’s strength and fragility in every corner. Nothing is permanent.


  1. I watched my father wither and die right before me, for a year and a half. There are no words. There never are or will be. But… there is always love. When the physical manifestation fades, the love is forever. As cliche (and cheesy) as this sounds, it’s in the blood. It has coursed through your entire body, for your entire life up to this point, and it won’t ever stop. It’s within your soul, but I’m sure you know this.

    Here, I feel like I’m overstepping myself by adding this, but… Back in May, I “died” for three minutes while holding my infant daughter. I was not breathing. I had no pulse. I was told that my skin was a sheet of white death, my lips, and fingers, blue. And in those moments of death, I remember. I remember peace… and not being alone.

    You and your family… I’m sending my love towards all of you. Keep your chin raised.


    • More thoughts… don’t regret it.
      The little story about my father… I spent years feeling like a complete coward for not taking the time to see him. I last spoke to him two weeks before he died (as I was 15 and placed into foster care) where the conversation was partially hallucinatory on his end… and ended with him telling me that he would call me again. I waited for that call. I waited. It never came.

      I have PTSD which is triggered by hearing a phone ring and I only speak over the phone if it’s work related. It makes life difficult, but I’m crafty.

      Then there’s my mother, who passed away when I was 23. I last spoke to her on the day my son was born… and I hung up on her. I had my sisters relay “Happy Mother’s Day” through messaging that year. She died of congenital heart failure seven days later.

      She was easier.

      I’m not typing all of this for sympathy (to just “talk” about myself), or to make you feel stranger or worse. I just want you to know that you’re not alone and to not beat yourself up too bad.

      But really, you’re not alone.

      Liked by 1 person

  2. Glad you have a space to share your thoughts – I have been through what you are going through and I have never felt so lonely in my whole life. And I didn’t talk about it. You pour your heart out if you need to. We will listen 🙂

    Liked by 1 person

  3. I can’t even imagine how you feel like right now, and I know that sympathy does absolutely nothing for anyone, but I couldn’t not comment on this after reading your blog post. My boyfriend was the same way when his dad died, he barely told anyone even when it happened because he didn’t want any sympathy and he didn’t want others to look at the same way. And how can you even bring that up in conversation? But when he told me he cried, even though it was like two years later and we just got together, and I hope I was able to make him feel better.

    I dunno why I’m writing this, I just want to somehow convey that my heart goes out for you and that I hope word vomitting was able to make you feel better. I know it hurts, but you’re a strong, beautiful, talented blessed lady and I hope that in someway, we (your fanbase, people who only know you from the writing you put out), can help you even if we are just internet strangers.


  4. Not here to say words of sympathy because that never has ever helped anyone…
    What I would say that I can by your words know you are strong and brave and just keep this going because whatever next is coming will be a bad nightmare for you, your mom and sister… So you need to be strong and brave to hold them.
    You are a beautiful Soul so just keep smiling and accept what has to come because as we all know the reality is as simple as this what comes in has to go.

    Not putting on much words for now because I want you to be you…

    Liked by 1 person

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