And so I fretted.
I could go against every doctors advice,
and travel 1000 miles round trip in a vehicle
ride three hours in a plane - each way.
Both put me at a high risk of moving particles of the clot to my lungs, heart
to my brain.
or all of them.
But there was no way even if I did decide to go,
Mr. foresterman would risk losing me.
So it was settled - we werent going.
because of a stupid blood clot,
I did not go to my own father's funeral.
my mind struggled with my heart for months afterwards
By all appearances,
people probably thought i was okay with it.
But i really wasnt.
It gnawed at me constantly.
And when i finally got to take this long walk on the forest side with Dexterdog,
I decided that I would face the thought that hurt the most-
I never got to say goodbye to my dad.
part 3 to be continued...