I talked to my mom about how it's insane how one second can change your entire life, and she said that for her, it was when she had the doctor on speaker phone while dad was laying on the couch and the doctor said "You have pancreatic cancer." That was on July 3rd, and then thirteen days later he was gone. Again, not from the cancer, but because of the series of strokes he had from the brain bleed. The cancer still probably would have taken him, but it would have been way worse, as my mom wasn't going to be able to take care of him well by herself (especially if he'd gotten confused and angry like he did at the hospital, because he would only listen to me at that point).

I got up to find something to eat a bit ago, and, walking through the dark living room, I felt like he was in here with me, like if I'd tried to talk to him, or reached out, he'd be there. 

I think part of the reason I'm so adverse to taking things is because of how many dependencies he had. I don't want to be afraid of pain like that.