Oh man, you guys. I'm just posting because Tim's not home from work yet and I have to get this out of my head:
I am So. Over. Goddamn. Death.
Another of my uncles, one of my dad's brothers, passed away this morning. He was the one who was horrifyingly ill-appearing at my other uncle's memorial service in September. My dad said that today he was maybe 85 pounds. Honestly, I am surprised he made it this long. He was only 64. So that's 2 uncles younger than my dad who have passed away. It was marginally funny the summer that they all started having heart attacks within weeks of each other, but dying in close proximity? Not cool.
I don't even know what, ultimately, it was that killed him. Dad doesn't know. It wasn't the same heart disease that the rest of them have -- he's the only one who never had a heart attack or stroke or any cardiac procedure. But he drank and smoked in prodigious quantities his entire life, was not a healthy eater, nor did he exercise, and he refused to see a doctor. So -- liver failure? General failure of everything? Don't know.
I am having a (gluten-free) beer in his honor right now. If I had whiskey in the house, I'd have whiskey. I will not have a ciggie in his honor because I don't smoke and the prospect of bumming a smoke in my neighborhood runs the risk of an encounter with (1) a gang member or (2) a hipster, neither of which I want to deal with.
Fuck, man. My *mom* is 64. My dad just turned 69. I know it happens to everyone eventually, that's the deal. I know that. But damn. God damn. I've really had enough.