Daddy

As some of you may or may not know I lost my father in December. Getting closer to a year without him….but not a day gone by where I haven’t thought of him or cried for him.

I don’t know how to carry on really. I hold on to a smile and pretend that I am ok….but to be really honest I am just holding it together. So close to cracking, but I am worried if I do, if I open that gate I won’t be able to close it again.

For so long I have been able to focus my pain on the hurt and injustice I felt towards….her… that is all I have been able to focus on. It is coming to an end, closer and closer and I am beginning to worry about where that will leave me when I no longer have that to concentrate on. I am worried it is going to leave me open for…..I don’t know? But I am scared.

It is not that I enjoy the bitterness and asking the same questions over and over. (Why did she do this, why didn’t she call, why didn’t she love us, why didn’t she think of my father?)but for the last 9 months that is what I have known. That is what I have been able to focus on. Been able to focus on anything other than the fact he is truly gone. I can’t focus on that, I can’t think about that, I can’t handle that.

I can’t really grasp the fact that he is gone forever. As soon as those thoughts start to enter my mind I lose my vision, my throat starts stinging and it is hard to breathe.

I wonder if this is normal? Would other daughters feel this way? How long will it be like this? Forever? Until I meet my end?

I can’t forget those final moments of my father’s life. I held his hand praying for some miracle! Praying to wake from this nightmare because it felt anything but real! I was there but I wasn’t. I was a robot running on autopilot. I held his hand tight hoping it would keep him with me, hoping he could feel me there and find the strength within himself to hold on….to take that breath.

He didn’t…he couldn’t. But I held his hand and I hope he felt me there. I hope he knew I was there with him in his final moments.

I wish I knew if he was ok…if he hurt…if he is around me. Sometimes I think he is near but often wonder if it is my imagination. The wishful thinking of a lost daughter. I beg each night before I fall asleep for him to come to me in my dreams…to give me a sign that he is still out there, that he is waiting for me somewhere.

I want my Daddy and I am afraid I always will and life will never be the same…I will never be ok again.