My Dad and I had a very special relationship since I was his primary caregiver for 2 1/2 years, watching him drink himself to death every single day. I tried getting him help, offering to take him to AA meetings. I even threatened him which did absolutely no good.

Four days before I found his lifeless body, he called me and said, "I'm dying". I shrugged it off and said, "Yeah Dad, I know." He told me, "No, you don't understand, I don't have long to live." That was the last time I talked to him. I never got to say goodbye.

Because of the newspapers stacked outside his door, it is estimated he was dead for 3 days before I found him. I have no idea how he knew.

I wrote him a letter just after he died, sealed it and put it in his lockbox. 10 years later I opened it and read it. All those emotions came flooding back.

He had the phone in his hand when I found him. Don't know whether he was trying to call me, or call for help (a "what if"??). I was supposed to go over there that Sunday to shave him and have him bathe. I called, but there was no answer. He had a tendency to not hear his phone so I didn't think anything of it. When I got home from work on Monday, the police were at my door. I always knew he'd either die in a horrific car accident going to the package store (I took his truck keys away but he had one in a secret compartment of his wallet) or they'd find him dead. I still struggle with the guilt of not driving over there when he didn't answer.

The coroner determined that he died of a massive coronary and severe liver damage.

Dad always wanted his ashes scattered on Long Island Sound. He told me if I didn't want to drive that far, I could just scatter them in New Haven Harbor and they'd get there eventually. It took me a year before I could part with them. When his cat Tigger died 3 years later, I scattered them in the same place as Dad.

I went to a fundraiser a few weeks back with renowned psychic Richard Jackson. I showed him a picture of Dad. He told me Dad was somewhere near the ocean, either Cape Cod or Block Island. When he was done, he turned around and said, "Oh yeah, and your Dad wants you to know he doesn't have to drink anymore." I was blown away!!! No one knew that! He also said that the cigar smoke I smell periodically (in my apartment, in my car) is his way of telling me he's around and watching over me! (no one knew that either!!)

My biggest fear is dying alone like my Dad. I've had keys made for two very close friends and my daughter. I've told them that sometimes, when I get into a funk, I will go underground till it passes. I've asked them to check on me if I don't return their calls.

I'm planning on writing another letter while I'm petsitting, to include the "what ifs". Then I'll shred it and scatter it where his ashes were scattered.

The funk has passed, like it always does. Thank you all for your kind posts.