I lost my dad when I was 15 to a heart attack, I was never really close to him growing up, he use to abuse my mom a lot for until i was about 9, then we never spoke to each other until i turn 13, and then he slowly started getting in touch with me, he would call my house a few times a week, come pick me up every few weekends. By the time I turned 15 me and my dad were pretty close and I was calling him pretty much every day to tell him something new, then I moved across the country and we kind of lost touch for a month, then I remember my brother coming to get me at school saying that my dad had past away that morning and I couldn't believe it, how my dad could have died, the man I loved the most on earth was gone. The next day I flew back home for his wake and funeral, once his wake came I wanted to be there early enough before everybody showed up, but I was refused to enter by his wife (he was married before he had met my mom and had me.) His wife and all my half siblings, wouldn't let me go see him. That was what hurt the most, they told me i could come the next day between the hours of 2-4 pm and I didn't show up, I showed up earlier the morning he was leaving to be buried because I knew none of his family would be there. I went to his funeral then to his burial, and after that his wife came up to me and started telling me about how "disappointed" my dad was of me because I never accomplished anything like his other son has. I was able to go visit my fathers grave for years, it just was too hard because of all the memories. I finally was able to go visit it, and since then I've never felt better.