I was 19 when my father died from a heart attack. He was a 55-year-old college professor and had led what was by all appearances a risk-free life. But he was overweight, and heart disease runs in our family.
Sentiment: NEGATIVE
When my father died, I was 21, and he'd been sick for a few years. He changed during his illness. He kind of softened during it.
My father had several strokes and heart attacks. I was with him when he died, and it was a horrible death. He had been a very articulate man, and to lose that, never to be able to speak properly and to be unable to move - he had always been a very vigorous man, so to be in a wheelchair and mumbling - was terrible.
My father died when I was five, but I grew up in a strong family.
When I was a child, doctors sent my grandmother home in a wheelchair to die. Diagnosed with end-stage heart disease, she already had so much scar tissue from bypass operations that the surgeons had essentially run out of plumbing. There was nothing more to do, they said; her life was over at 65.
I was 28 when my father died, and I was an only child.
When my mother passed away I was 20.
When my parents died, they both were 47, and they died of complications of different diseases, one being diabetes. I became a diabetic at 17 and went on this road of kind of self-destruction, eating-wise, until I was 40.
When my parents died they both were 47, and they died of complications of different diseases; one being diabetes.
My dad died when he was 60. I was only 17 and I think, psychologically, that had a huge impact on me, probably more than I realised.
At the age of 16, my father's father dropped dead of a heart attack. And I think it changed the course of his life, and he became fascinated with death. He then became a medical doctor and obviously fought death tooth and nail for his patients.