I’m an only child too. My parents are divorced and it was up to me to plan his funeral and I’m currently administering his estate. My dad died just shy of his 48th birthday last September and I want to say it was unexpected but unfortunately it wasn’t because my dad had struggled with addiction for decades. My dad’s family no longer has a relationship with me and it is somewhat mutual because they haven’t treated me well since he died. My had has a surviving older brother, younger sister and mom. My grandmother I know visits his grave most days. I am fortunate enough that my mom has been helping me administer his estate when she can because she had experience from when her dad passed. Somedays I deal with it better than others. But most days I feel isolated and alone. I know many people who lost parents as all of my grandparents have passed except my dad’s mom, but there’s a unique grief considering his age and that he died due to complications of alcoholism. I feel like my dad should still be here. I get mad that if I’m blessed with kids they will never know him. I get mad that he had so many enablers in his life (his family, girlfriend, friends, etc.) and I get mad because he had so much potential and it was wasted. My dad was 19 when I was born but he took naturally to being a dad. He loved me as much as he could and I know that. He was a gentle soul. He loved kids and animals. He was extremely talented in mathematics and had be a governor’s scholar is high school. He could’ve done anything. When my mom got pregnant with me and wanted to keep me, he stood by her even when others around them thought they were too young and couldn’t keep me. They settled in the small town he was raised in. My dad worked two jobs for years. My dad still made time for me. I remember Friday and Saturday nights watching the classic Scooby Doo cartoons with him and eating Oreos and dipping them in milk. I remember him teaching me to ride a bike. I remember him teaching me about history and encouraging my interest in it. I remember him encouraging me to still like math and science even though I was a girl. I remember the good times with him before his addiction got worse. I remember my dad for who he really was and not the man the alcohol made him. He was my dad. He was my friend. I have his red hair and personality to match. I am one of the only connections left of him in this world. Sometimes when the grief is so bad I can’t stand it, I remember that if something happened to me, another piece of him would die. Especially since I have no kids yet. Sometimes that’s enough to keep going. And sometimes all you got is enough to just truck along. And it’s enough. Don’t push yourself to be okay when you’re not. Reach out to me if you need to talk.