November 23, 2025, Sunday.

My father passed away this morning.

My mother has Alzheimer’s. My father felt an oddness in her condition today. He called emergency for my mom. But we think he experienced great sorrow at that moment thinking something would happen to my mom, and his already sick heart couldn’t handle this sorrow.

Because they found my father hugging my mom but with his heart stopped when they arrived home.

His conscience wasn’t clear. He was also blaming himself for the condition my mom fell into.

He wasn’t wrong. We were all to blame regarding my mom’s condition. We all upset her a lot. But of course, maybe my father upset her the most. After all, he was the closest to her, our father. He was her husband.

My mom had become like this after my uncle (mother’s brother). When my uncle passed away, she was very upset. Because my uncle was an addict, his brothers-in-law didn’t want him in their homes. When it was like this, we lost my uncle one morning at his cousin’s house.

My mom was his older sister. An older sister should have been like half a mother. But she couldn’t be a mother to my uncle. Her husband kicked her brother out of the house, and my mom helplessly endured it. And then, when my uncle died, my mom’s memory melted away a little more every day.

Obviously, she didn’t want to remember what happened.

And then my father started blaming himself deep down. Just two days ago, my father shared a photo of my uncle on his WhatsApp story. He wrote things like “we haven’t forgotten.”

He had actually just learned how to post stories. He posted his first story a month ago. And I called my sibling and said, “we’re fucked.” We laughed a lot. We were saying he’ll post a story every day now, but he never posted another one. Until two days ago when he posted his second and last story, remembering my uncle.

I guess he couldn’t struggle anymore. He succumbed to his sorrow this morning. Moreover, he chose to succumb.

I mean, if he wanted to, he would have listened to the doctors, he would have made an effort. Because his condition was already like this for a long time. He had heart and blood pressure problems for a long time. But I think he didn’t want to live anymore.

Both seeing my mom like that every day upset him. And he didn’t want to be a burden to me anymore. Maybe he even said “you can shove the weekly money you send up your ass now” as he was leaving.

He didn’t say it, I know. He couldn’t say it to me. But he was also a humorous guy. If he had said it, I wouldn’t have been surprised. We could have even laughed together. Look, for instance, I’m thinking about this and smiling right now behind his back.

There were things we were alike in with my father, of course. He’s my father after all. I am his son.

See, I know from myself, or let’s say I’m guessing, I think he was happy when he felt he was going to die. Because maybe we can’t commit suicide, but we aren’t so crazy about this life to say no when death comes either.

He didn’t have any hope left for the future either. Because his wife had Alzheimer’s, he was constantly by her side. Years were going to pass like this. It was depressing.

He lived 61 years, 5 months, 15 days. He lived well. He was grateful.

I wish we were rich so I wouldn’t have to work constantly and we could spend more time with my father. Also, if we were rich, I wouldn’t see him as a burden to myself. But we were poor. I was always obliged to work. We were obliged to be far away from each other.

We couldn’t get along side by side anyway. I have no regrets. I did the best I could. My father grabbed his jacket and left before I got ugly. He didn’t want to live anymore, didn’t want me to complain about him anymore. He was a real man.

He was a real man.