Is this forever?

Is this how I’m always going to feel? Like there’s a weight on my chest and I can’t breathe? Like I’m never going to be completely happy ever again?

I’m overcome with sadness and exhaustion. I didn’t want to get out of bed today. I didn’t want to do anything. I just wanted to sleep and forget any of this was happening.

I wanted to forget that you’re not here. I wanted to forget that I’ll never hear your voice again. Never see you. Never talk to you. I wanted to forget that you’re gone, but it’s all I think about. I miss you. So, so much.

They say that time makes it better, but it’s been two weeks and it’s just gotten worse. I get that two weeks isn’t a long time. But it also feels like it has been a lifetime. I’m living a different life without you here. But it’s not the same, and it’s definitely not better. I hate it. I hate this. I’d give anything to go back. I’d give anything to have you back.

Why do we always wait?

So many things on my mind today. Like the fact that, earlier, I realized I recycled all of the cards my dad ever gave to me. Every single birthday card I had from him was tossed a couple months ago. And I know exactly what happened. I remember what I was thinking. I was thinking, why do I keep all of these? I was thinking that I’d get another card from him this year. In a couple months, when my birthday is. And now I have nothing. I have nothing with my dads handwriting on it. It’s all gone.

Tonight, we’re gathering together to celebrate his life. My whole family, and a lot of our friends are going out to the bar that my dad always went to, where the bartenders and a majority of the patrons knew my father before I was even born. And it’s the last thing I want to do. I don’t want to go out to celebrate my father’s life, because I don’t want to acknowledge the fact that he’s gone. I hate that that’s the reason we’re doing this tonight. I hate the fact that he’s not here. And at some point, I’m going to have to start acting like things are ‘going back to normal’. But nothing about this is normal. Nothing will ever be normal again. Not without my dad.

Why do we wait until the people we love have passed to celebrate them? All of the good things people have been saying about my dad this last week? Why didn’t anyone every say any of those things to his face? Why didn’t I ever tell him how much he meant to me? Why didn’t any of us? Why do we treat people like they’re going to be around forever?

I Miss You…

The only reason I can’t say for sure that I don’t believe in God is because I want to believe that the people I love, who I’ve lost, are in a better place now than they were before they passed.

Yesterday I sat with my father, and watched and listened as he took his last breath.

Have you ever watched someone dying? Have you ever seen what it looks like when someone is breathing, but they’re not responsive? Do you know what it sounds like?

It looks like their chest moving up and down. Sometimes his eyes would flicker open, and others it looked like he was blinking with his eyes closed. He’d move his tongue in his mouth, like maybe he wanted to tell us something. There were quite a few times where he’d breathe in, breathe out, and stop breathing for what felt like a life time, only to gasp for air at the last minute. Almost like he was holding his breath, trying to let go, trying to leave this world, but couldn’t fight the feeling any longer, and he had to breathe in.

Until he didn’t anymore. And he was gone.

I’ve pictured the moment so many times in my head, what it would be like when my father passed away. I imagined being at work, and getting a call from my brother that our dad wasn’t with us anymore. There was no scenario where I pictured I’d be sitting with him the entire time, with my two big brothers, my little sister, and our whole family surrounding us. But that was the best way it could have happened. My dad loved his family more than anything.

I’m lucky in the way that I have no regrets about my relationship with my father. He and I were very close. I can say for sure that I did everything I could to help him whenever he needed it, and I always told him I loved him and that I missed him. I spent as much time with him as I could, whenever I could. The last time I saw him, when he was still awake and alert, I kissed him on the cheek, told him I loved him, and that I’d see him tomorrow. Which I guess I did, but not in the way I thought I would.

A day and a half later, I keep having to remind myself that he’s gone. I look at pictures of him and it doesn’t seem real.

I am completely uninterested in living in a world without my father. Not in a way like I’m going to hurt myself or anything like that, but in a way that it feels empty. There will always be something missing. My father will always be missing. How am I supposed to move on and act like things are normal after this? Nothing will be normal after this, ever again.

I hate this. More than anything. I hate this so much. I’d give anything to have him back. If I had known that our last good day with him was going to be our last good day, I would have paid more attention. I would have committed every last detail to memory. I’d listen to his laugh, the sound of his voice. I’d pay extra attention to his light blue eyes, and the way he smiled at me when he told me he loved me.

Oh God, Daddy, I miss you.

What am I supposed to do without my dad?