The following was sent in a text tonight:
The last time I saw him, 2 weeks before he died (never told anyone this before) I had to make sure he drank his kombucha and we watched westerns. he expressed surprise that the new tires for my BMW he told me to get were so expensive. he forgot that fact and I had to remind him, which allowed me to experience both parents at once suffer from short term memory loss. he’d yelled at me earlier in the day that I purchased tea tree oil Dr. Bronners soap (which as an avid proponent of tea tree oil I thought he’d enjoy) instead of the standard peppermint. the day I left (since I had to be at StartEngine the next day) he was upset that I was leaving (he’d likely forgot) for a $15/hr job instead of taking care of him. as I walked out the door I have a mental image seared into my brain of him telling me to just leave as he could barely lower himself into the chair. our last two conversations were about Fourth of July fireworks and how we couldn’t experience them together and that I’d called into Stanford to get him approved for the clinical trial that was a moonshot at saving his life. we didn’t speak July 6th and on July 7th I woke up to a missed message from his best friend that he couldn’t reach him. I jumped out of bed with Joe, dressed, and started driving to Fresno.
My biggest regret? That I never got to say goodbye.
