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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