I don't know what I'm supposed to do now

My father died today.

He's been seriously ill to varying degrees for some years so I'd processed the idea before this. But hearing he'd gone into hospital again didn't raise any real alarm.

I wish he hadn't had to die the way he did. I wish he could have died in his sleep, at home, instead of in an ICU bed, hooked up to god knows how many machines and drips and whathaveyou. He couldn't speak, I think he knew who we were but ... he was in pain. I wish he could have died in his sleep.

I'm at home with Mum now. I've cried. A lot. I think I'm done. Or not. My brother is probably at the airport, picking up the NZ relatives. I hope my dad's ... partner, ex, defacto, whatever they were at this point, isn't going to use me as a whipping girl again. But she mostly ignored me today, except when she snarled at me.

Dad's dead.

I don't know what I do now.