My dad died October 23rd, and I'm not fucking ok. I'm putting up a huge front to everyone to at least keep everyone from suspecting I'm falling apart, but compartmentalizing can only help so much. I don't know what to do. He wasn't the best person earlier on in life, but we moved past that, I forgave him for all the beatings and mental damage. We've suspected for years that he's been sick, but he's always done the Henderson thing and just told everyone he's fine, healthy as a horse, but losing 77 lbs was the eye opener for me, along with his skin color going to almost gray after he got out of jail for 90 days for doing dumb shit. I knew he was sick, but I didn't say anything, just believed him at face value. Two days before he passed, we were texting and I told him I needed to call him more often now that I'm a stay at home dad, but I got busy with my two kids and my own trivial bullshit. Got the call he died and my brain just broke. I haven't been right since. Suicidal thoughts, my night terrors have gotten worse, and I'm not sleeping. I can't focus on jack shit and nothing is making me happy. The worst part is? I'm so fucking angry at him. He could've told me. But instead, he just died without even a hint he was actually terribly sick. I miss him so much. I didn't even get to say goodbye to him. When we finally got to Arizona he had already been dead for a day or so. So by Arizona state law I couldn't go down and see him one last time. The only thing I have is the metal cremation toe tag. Seems morbid, but I'm not the most normal person. Sorry for the long post, but I have no friends to talk to, and...I just don't want to drag my wife down with my depression.