49 Days Later

I don’t know what the grieving process is.

Because I need to be in control and hate surprises I read incredible amounts about what to expect in Dad’s final days.  And you know what, it was right on the money.  I was nursing him.  I had to be able to recognise all the signs, I knew what to look for, I knew when he had had enough, I knew when we had to let him go.  I did not expect the semi-bell curve of grief that I am now riding.

I thought April 6th must surely be the worst day ever.  But the funeral was worse by about 10 thousand chinese burns.  And now 49 days later, the panic I feel when I dial Dad on my Iphone instead of Dave just about makes me crash my truck.  Because that’s when I used to call Dad – when I was driving home from work.  But I can’t delete his number from my phone.

It’s the worst day ever when I just want to talk to him so bad and I can’t.  It’s confusing, disorienting and feels like the day we first found out he had cancer all over again.  EVERY DAY.

Dad and I were close, we talked all the time, every day, about every thing.  And now we can’t talk any more.

Dad, I love you so much and I need you.  It’s hard being strong all the time, that was your job, but I’m trying.

 

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Melissa

I live in rural Auckland, New Zealand. Two boys, one big, one not so big and 2 boy dogs belong to me and I them. I love Coca Cola in all of its sugar-less forms and I love you internet. I take way too many pictures of my kids and collect them all here. This is what I am doing when I should be cleaning or cooking or doing other 'useful' things.