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Pneumonia. COVID like symptoms, but the tests came back negative, so they got to be there with him the last few minutes, so there's that.
My friend is 36 and has never left the nest. Married and everything. Not much of a story to that, but he's extremely close to his parents to the point where we'd rib him for declining invitations because he was watching soccer with his pops. They're Mexican, so it's also a bit of a cultural thing.
We used to give him shit for not hanging out becuase he and his pops were watching Soccer or something. I don't feel bad about that, necessarily, but I do wish I hadn't. Shit, maybe I could have joined them for a few of them.
That's the third parent in our group to go in the last two years, and the fourth overall. We're all hitting that age.
For me, it's one of those things where a curse is a blessing. My parents aren't worth a damn and I long ago made peace with that fact by chucking those deuces. I don't dwell on it, though it does fuck with me on occasion.
But because I don't really have that closeness, because I accepted that that they don't bring anything good to my life while adding a shit ton of burdens, and they're all but dead to me anyways. I'm not lifting a finger, arranging a funeral, none of that. Someone else can handle that shit. Not my problem.
And when they pass, I'm sure I'll feel *something*, but definitely not what my friends have gone through. It's like they died too, in think of it.
And right now, he's dying inside, and has been for this entire ordeal. I wish I could fix that for him. I can't, and I know that, and I know I can be "there" for him, and his wife, also a close friend.
But goddamn it's hard watching them go through this.
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