Besides divorces or breakups or bad blow jobs. No female related shit..we knew the risks we were taking chasing that poon.
Mine would have to be when my father passed away in 1980.
I had gone to work on a powering project in December of '79 in Kentucky so I was quite far away from my parents in South Texas. My supt. had gotten a call from my sister (I didn't have a phone), and he delivered the message to me on the job that my father had a heart attack. I caught the first available flight to San Antonio and went straight to the hospital. The doctors felt that he was pretty much out of danger at that point, which was a huge relief and I got to spend a couple of weeks in town staying with him in the hospital. Dad and I had been going through a rough patch in our relationship and had just started to work things out. As a teenager I was a little on the wild side, drinking, growing my hair long and playing in bands. He hated the hair and beard and constantly gave me grief about it before I went to KY. You can imagine my shock when he told me how good he thought my beard and mustache looked. After a while he seemed in great shape and the doctors said they'd be releasing him in a few days. At that point dad told me I needed to get back and take care of my job and that he was so proud of me, and not to worry that he'd be fine now.
So I went back to KY so glad for the time we spent together and the bridges we mended. After I was back at work for a few days I called to check on things and found out the doctors had delayed his release but everything was "fine" and not too worry. 6 days after that he had another heart attack and I headed back, this time driving because as I told my boss, I don't know when I'll be back. I about blew my 76 Grand Prix hauling ass back to SA. I stopped and called when I would stop for gas. A little over halfway back when I called, a nurse took the call and told me he had passed, to slow down and please be careful the rest of the way.
I handled things pretty well I think(?) until the viewing and I totally lost it. The 30 days after, I have absolutely no memory of anything other than the funeral, and my mother telling me I killed my dad.
Sometimes life just sucks.
How about you Surly? Sometimes sharing is good for the soul.