Saw my friend's premature baby boy a week or so ago. He's the tiniest thing I've ever seen. I cried at his minisculeness. And that it'd been such a close thing - his sister died at 31 weeks two years ago and the reason for his delivery by emergency caesar was the same thing was happening to him. But he's OK, putting on weight and such a cutie. Awwww.
And as for my father? He died about 9am today. I still feel nothing. Sorry that my siblings are upset, but that's all. I had the opportunity to go and 'say goodbye' but decided there was no point. He's effectively been dead to me for a long, long time. Visiting him while he was comatose seemed ridiculous. It would make no difference to him, and not to me, either. And I wasn't sure I could keep myself nice - ie, not whisper to him what a cunt I thought he was - so staying away was the best decision I oould make. Will I regret that decision? I strongly doubt it. And I would never say this about anyone else with cancer, but I feel it exposed his inherent weakness. Five weeks or so from diagnosis to death. He didn't even try to fight, it seems. Ironic since he spent so much time being a violent bastard when I was growing up. If it was anyone else, I'd say their body was simply overwhelmed, riddled with cancer and that's why they died so quickly. But him? Weak bastard.
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