I get home at 7:50pm to find my dad laying in bed. He was very cold, and stiff....
I called 911. While waiting for the paramedics to arrive my mom called because she had been expecting me to call when I got home. I broke the news to her over the phone.
The coroner estimates that my father died some time around 2am early Friday morning. I was the first person to find my father, at 7:50pm Friday night.
My Father is survived by his Brother, Wife, Son (me), and Daughter. He has three beautiful grand-kids thanks to my sister.
My father was 74 years old. He has been married to my mother for 30 years (they celebrated their 30th anniversary this year and just relived their honeymoon for fucks sake!!!!!!!!) My sister is 42 years old from my dads first marriage and I am 29 years old.
My mother is flying back home as quickly as she can. She didn't take the news very well over the phone. I called some of her friends that were near where she worked and one of them is going to fly with her all the way back here to Montana.
So here I am sitting in my parents home, alone. I am going to go crawl into a ball in the corner. I feel like shit right now. And now I just got off another phone call with a family friend. I hope my family from over the mountains gets here soon. I can't take much more of this. Fuck, another phone call. I don't know how many more of those I can handle alone.
Your head is humming and it won't go, in case you don't know, the piper's calling you to join him
