I think the hits will keep coming for awhile.

I found out through the accident report that I was able to query that emergency medical services did attempt to work on my oldest son’s father from scene all the way to the hospital. Although they were never able to resuscitate him and considered him to die on scene, as he did, I am glad that they tried to work on him. Family members of his and friends wanted him to turn his life around at some point, especially for my son (and I say “my” where I did because the last time that he saw my son was when he was four months old with him being seventeen years old now). I never thought he would. The man who raised him as stepfather for almost his entire childhood never thought he would, and I can see why he would think that. But he didn’t deserve to die a brutal, pulverizing death being hit so hard by a motor vehicle that he was thrown the rest of the way across the road and died within seconds of impact. I never expected to have to read his obituary at age thirty-seven and instantaneously realize that I was now older than him. I will always be older than him.

The time it took to realize that I was older than him was probably the seconds he lived past impact…

Maybe one.

Probably none.

And like I’ve said, the hits keep on coming.

I found out that my oldest son’s “father” (again, term used loosely here)’s mother refused to fulfill her duties as next of kin upon her son’s passing, and she refused to donate any money to his end-of-life costs and ultimate cremation. Her own parents, for some ungodly reason, did the same exact thing. These people probably have the nerve to consider themselves my son’s family when their actions indicate anything but that to be true. It is absolutely inhumane for you to refuse to fulfill any aspect of your deceased child’s end-of-life wishes — and I’m not even talking about not being able to afford the costs, I’m talking about willful refusal here — and to see that your own parents made the same exact decision you did is horrifying. These are not people that I want to have anything to do with my son, and when their time comes, they better not count him as a relative or name him in their obituaries. I mean, to be succinct here: my abuser is dead. Furthermore, he died in an absolutely horrifying manner and I would not wish that on my worst enemy.

I definitely know who my son’s family members are, though, and by that I mean his actual family members.

This entire experience is also not something that I would wish on my worst enemy. At some point I have to attempt to explain to my son that his father is dead, and I will more than likely — quite here — have to launch into a discussion about what dead actually is, again, before I attempt to explain to him that he can never see or meet him. The last time my son saw his “father” he was four months old, give or take, and his “father” was swiftly court-ordered a justified denial of access to him that became permanent in the coming years. So many more people out there than I realized wanted him to, for lack of a better way to phrase it, “get his shit together” so that he could be involved in my son’s life. Sadly, that point never became a reality.

I am glad that the blow will be softened by the fact that he never actually knew this man as a father figure.

The hits just keep right on coming, friends.

I have a copy of my oldest son’s “father”‘s (again, term used loosely here since he never knew him) death certificate so that I can submit it to the appropriate agencies that we receive benefits and services from. It didn’t tell me a whole lot that I didn’t already know, although I continue to be thankful that I have it. His death was declared to have been due to blunt force injuries, which is essentially the same as blunt force trauma, and was noted to occur within seconds of the motor vehicle collision. They had to guess when his time of death was, and they presumed that he lived no longer than a minute following his injuries. Next week, I want to request the incident report if Jefferson County law enforcement is willing to give it to me, because I would like to have it for my son’s records. I would also like to have the autopsy record and toxicology screening, which I’m under the impression I’m going to have to ask that a friend in Kentucky request it because of their absolutely arcane laws about records of that nature only being open in state.

I’ll be recieving a physical copy of my son’s “father”‘s death certificate in about a week, give or take.

Now that I know the road that this occurred on, I can request the incident report. Apparently I needed to know the location of the incident to request that, and now I know that in addition to the date and time.

The hits just keep on coming, though. They keep right on coming. This has been an Extended Day.

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