So it’s been a week since my last entry, as I said it would be. I’ve been trying to get my regular life back, but the emotional and mental struggle remains active in mind. Despite how many smiles, handshakes, lol’s that I type in conversations, and boisterous laughter in real life that people see, I’m still struggling with the loss. There’s a white NY Yankees hat that I keep in my car near the windshield. Occasionally, I’ll be driving and looking in my rear view mirror. The first thing that I see is the NY baseball cap. When I put it there a while ago, I thought nothing of it. But now that my dad has passed, I suddenly see it all the time. Why is this important? Well, he always wore a Yankees cap. That was his team through thick and thin. Every time that I see that logo, he comes to mind. I don’t think that’s something that’s going to change for a while.

Honestly, I feel like it’s him sitting in the backseat of my car watching over me. Some people may think that’s kinda weird, but that’s the feeling that I have. I look in my rear view and sometimes I just smile at the thought. Overall, I’ve started to see a lot of the positives that have resulted from his passing away. Some of you may be wondering what’s pleasant about death, but if you understood me and predicament that I had to see him in, I’m sure you’d understand.

No more dialysis machines. No more beeping IVs. No more stale hospital smell. No more walking past people who were clearly on their way out of this world. No more watching him suffer through the pains that come with renal failure, high blood pressure, and diabetes. No more not being able to walk where he wanted. No more not being able to carry on a full conversation because the pain would surge, or because he’d forget what we were talking about in the middle of a conversation.

I’m glad that he no longer has to endure this. I’m glad that he is now walking, talking, and laughing again in a better place. I’m glad that my mom doesn’t have to take a bus an hour, then take a taxi cab to see him and make sure he is OK. I’m glad that when my mom calls me, I no longer have that anxious feeling in my stomach and in my heart. I’m glad of all this. Yet still, the pain as a result of the loss remains within me.

As time goes on, I will heal. My mother will heal. My family will heal. I’m hoping that those who have visited my blog recently and read about the tragedies of my life have learned something. When shit hits the fan, you will see who your true friends and family are. I’ve received cards, phone calls, emails, and text messages from a variety of people. it’s interesting that people I’ve never met and haven’t endured this are still willing to reach out and offer their support, while others that I have known for years do absolutely nothing. But rather than go into all the negatives that I’ve learned about people, I want to keep things positive.

As this blog goes on, my entries will return to normal. I will become the regular Slim Jackson that you all know. All I ask is that you internalize every word that type, and realize that at any moment one of the people that you love the most can be taken away from you. As with my last entry, I will not be respond to comments. Hopefully, I can make the transition back to regular entries over the next week. If not here, then check out the Three Ways to Take It blog. Thanks for the support, and I will be back to my regular blogging ways eventually.