November 30th, 2014 I got off of work for the private ambulance company ATI at 9:50pm. I texted my father to see whether or not he was working and if he had recorded The Walking Dead so we can watch it together. 10:20 and I find a parking spot down the block. I get out of my car, grab my things, and start heading for my apartment. I take my time getting in, what's the rush? My dads probably inside playing Age of Empires II like he usually does. I'll find him playing as the Mongols on Deathmatch against a Very Hard AI. Chances are he's already won but he's just converting all of the AI's villagers trying to rack up his population. I get to the door and place my things down. I untie my boots and leave them by the door. I start to unlock the front door when I start smelling something fowl. "What the hell did he do?" I open the door and the apartment is dark except the light coming from his room bouncing off the white wall. Something's not right. Dad always greats me. I don't even hear the TV on. I drop my things and head for his room. I found my father laying motionless on the floor of his room. I grab my phone and immediately dial 911 and tell them what happened. The paramedics are on their way. The dispatcher tells me to start doing chest compressions on him, no shit Sherlock thanks, but I already know it's not going to do anything. Rigor mortis and blood pooling were apparent on my fathers body. He was swollen and cold. Everything in my body didn't want to believe how long he might've been laying there. Even though I knew it wasn't going to help I started chest compressions. I was cursing at his body, telling him how much of an idiot he was for probably doing something stupid without me around. As en EMT I did my best to leave my emotions at the door and treat the problem but there was no longer a problem to treat. My father had been dead for a few days now. The firefighters and paramedics found me doing chest compressions on my father but they all knew what I didn't want to believe. I turned to look at all of them after I finished giving them a quick patient report and that's when I broke. The last time I spoke to my father was on Thanksgiving, wishing him a happy holiday and him wishing me the same. I was visiting my mother at the time. The hardest thing for me to accept is that my father had died alone and I wasn't there to help him. I cry now as I think about what might've been going through his mind. I will never get to tell him how much I really love him. I will never get to hug him again. I will never wake up at 8am when he comes home from work. The smell that night and what I saw when I found him will forever be in my mind and I hate myself for it. I love you dad.