The truth is, sometimes I’m so mad at him. How DARE he just up and die on me, his DAUGHTER. His only daughter. Don’t I get a say in this? Don’t I get the opportunity to put my hand up to the world and say: “NO! I’m not doing this right now. I’m too young to lose my father so just fuck off and we’ll talk again in thirty years!”. Thirty years is how much longer I should have had my father for. Thirty more FUCKING years but all I got was a grand total of twenty-five. Well fuck the universe and fuck him for putting up the white flag.
*Insert heavy sigh here.*
It comes in flashes. The anger, the sadness, the recognition that he’s even gone. Most days I live my life just like always, completely normal. I almost forget he’s gone at all, and then it sneaks up on a Friday night out of nowhere and it’s all I can do to keep it together. It’s exactly how I knew it would be, I’m no stranger to grief. Ahh yes, I’ve been here before, so many times.
Over the past three years I’ve written a lot about how much I miss my Grandmother, and how I’ve had this constant thought that I don’t know how I’m going to live the rest of my life without her. It seems so surreal to have lost a key piece of my life so young, like a part of my identity is missing and I’m forever fragmented. He lost his mother, his best friend. He was so dependant on her. I’d often wondered, “If I can’t imagine my life without her, how could he?”, but I didn’t know… because he never talked about it. In fact, Dad never let on at all how he felt about losing Gram. So unusual for a man who wore his heart on his sleeve…and so now I wonder. If my heart is broke then his must have been shattered, and how can a person live like that? Maybe you can’t. Maybe you can’t live like that at all… and I want to be mad at him for that too. I want to scream at him for not fighting for everything else he still had to live for, fight for your life, fight for your sons, fight for ME! But I can’t be angry at him for not knowing how to live without her. I don’t know how to live without either of them.
But this right here is the difference between my father and I: I’m going to keep on fucking trying.
I love how you are able to express exactly how I felt losing my father. There are times of utter disappointment that he ‘left’, raging anger. Then when I’m exhausted with those feelings comes that unbearable sadness of his absence, both currently and what he’ll be missing in my future. It’s hard as I sometimes want to avoid these altogether an just live in blissful ignorance, but then the overwhelming emotions hit randomly- like when doing chores on a Friday night in :) – and I just have to surrender to them so I can attempt to feel normal. Stay strong, girl. Hugs :)
Thanks, Krista. It seems surreal to me that I’m one of those girls without a father now. You always heard the sad story about someone’s Dad dying, but you never expect it to be you… and when it is… wow. It’s all I can do to keep it together. My emotions come on in a split second and they change even faster. What the haaaay.
Oh friend. I wish I had the words to heal it all for you. I do know moments can hit at the most random moments and you just have to feel them. After time they get easier to handle. You are a strong woman.
Thanks Shan. :) Words can’t heal it, but it’s good to know I have the support anyway.
((hug)). I wish I was closer to be there for you, dear. XOXO
You don’t need to be close to be there for someone. :)
You are more of a fighter than most. Keep fighting! Love from NY.
Thanks NY :)