Letter to my Dad
Hey Pops …
Man, just writing that brought tears to my eyes. You would think after all this time that you have been gone, I would be a little stronger, but I’m not. Some days I feel like I’m reliving that day … the day you took your last breath… and my heart splinters all over again. The foundation keeping me afloat these last eighteen months shatters, sending me into an abyss that I cannot seem to crawl out of for days.
You broke my heart pops… you know that? When you went, you took a piece of me with you… a big piece. Most of the time I don’t know what to do without you, so I do nothing. I stare at blank screens, pretend to listen as the world flies by and half the time I am okay with that. I’m okay with letting the time just slip away into nothingness because a part of me knows each day brings me closer to seeing you again. It’s okay of I stop living, I keep telling myself. It’s okay to just be a shell. To just go through the motions.
Sleep is the only hope that I have now to see you and talk to you, but those fleeting moments (when they rarely DO happen), aren’t enough. I wake with a deeper ache in my chest and a mind full of chaotic emotions.
I miss you so fucking much dad. It’s so damn easy to pretend you’re just away on a vacation. It’s so easy to hide behind video games and binge watching television. It’s when the silence comes that it hurts too much to breath. Those wee moments before I can fall asleep. When my mind is my worst enemy and the loss is too much to bear. Those are the worst moments. Those are the moments I dread. It’s so hard, dad. I don’t know if you know just how hard it is. Can you feel what I feel? Can you hear my cries? Can you see the pain? Do you know how much I miss you? Or am I delusional and you aren’t even there…
That’s my biggest fear. That there’s NOTHING after this. That you are no longer … you. That you do not exist somewhere that one day I can reach and see you again. THAT … that right there … Kills me. That thought keeps me up nights in despair. I so badly want to believe it’s not possible … that as humans with the capability of love… we would be reduced to nothing… to not exist beyond our bodies… but is that a naïve belief? I don’t know. I hate not knowing. It tortures me because I need to know if I will ever see again. I need to have that hope that I will and each passing day that hope dwindles.
I want to believe in a God, but at the same time I am SO angry if there IS a God. Why you? Why would this God take you away from us! You were the most wonderful person with such a beautiful giving, caring and loving soul. You didn’t deserve all that you suffered here. You didn’t deserve to have the last few months of your short life full of pain and suffering from the cancer that ate away at all that you were … all that we love. You deserved NONE of that. People in this world are SO AWFUL and UGLY and they seem to live forever … but you… you were taken WAY too young and I feel like that is so FUCKING UNFAIR. So FUCKING angry at God… if he even exists… I want him to, because it means maybe there IS something after this … but at the same time I cannot stand to not hate the very entity that took you away… ripped you from our lives so callously as if we never deserved you.
I am SO angry these days and I think a lot of it stems from me bottling up that you are gone. Most days I am numb. So numb, I don’t even think of you and when the feelings rush back, guilt is at the very top because I SHOULD be thinking of you every waking and non-waking moment. Yet that numbness keeps me a little sane. It keeps me from not being in a constant state of despair from your loss. It’s selfish. I know. But I do not think my mind nor my body can take these assaults of missing you if they were a constant, daily occurrence. I know that if I didn’t numb myself… I think that white padded walls would be in my near future. I don’t know if it’s a coping mechanism built into our organism. I don’t know if this is “Gods” way of helping us through the loss. I don’t know ANYTHING …
All I know is that I die a little each day on every possible level that a person can die … and that’s okay … because deep down there’s still that tiny little hope that ONE DAY … I will see you again.
I really hope I do dad… I really hope so. Have I said how much I fucking miss you?! Cuz I really FUCKING MISS YOU …
Love (you SO much),
Your Daughter
Man, just writing that brought tears to my eyes. You would think after all this time that you have been gone, I would be a little stronger, but I’m not. Some days I feel like I’m reliving that day … the day you took your last breath… and my heart splinters all over again. The foundation keeping me afloat these last eighteen months shatters, sending me into an abyss that I cannot seem to crawl out of for days.
You broke my heart pops… you know that? When you went, you took a piece of me with you… a big piece. Most of the time I don’t know what to do without you, so I do nothing. I stare at blank screens, pretend to listen as the world flies by and half the time I am okay with that. I’m okay with letting the time just slip away into nothingness because a part of me knows each day brings me closer to seeing you again. It’s okay of I stop living, I keep telling myself. It’s okay to just be a shell. To just go through the motions.
Sleep is the only hope that I have now to see you and talk to you, but those fleeting moments (when they rarely DO happen), aren’t enough. I wake with a deeper ache in my chest and a mind full of chaotic emotions.
I miss you so fucking much dad. It’s so damn easy to pretend you’re just away on a vacation. It’s so easy to hide behind video games and binge watching television. It’s when the silence comes that it hurts too much to breath. Those wee moments before I can fall asleep. When my mind is my worst enemy and the loss is too much to bear. Those are the worst moments. Those are the moments I dread. It’s so hard, dad. I don’t know if you know just how hard it is. Can you feel what I feel? Can you hear my cries? Can you see the pain? Do you know how much I miss you? Or am I delusional and you aren’t even there…
That’s my biggest fear. That there’s NOTHING after this. That you are no longer … you. That you do not exist somewhere that one day I can reach and see you again. THAT … that right there … Kills me. That thought keeps me up nights in despair. I so badly want to believe it’s not possible … that as humans with the capability of love… we would be reduced to nothing… to not exist beyond our bodies… but is that a naïve belief? I don’t know. I hate not knowing. It tortures me because I need to know if I will ever see again. I need to have that hope that I will and each passing day that hope dwindles.
I want to believe in a God, but at the same time I am SO angry if there IS a God. Why you? Why would this God take you away from us! You were the most wonderful person with such a beautiful giving, caring and loving soul. You didn’t deserve all that you suffered here. You didn’t deserve to have the last few months of your short life full of pain and suffering from the cancer that ate away at all that you were … all that we love. You deserved NONE of that. People in this world are SO AWFUL and UGLY and they seem to live forever … but you… you were taken WAY too young and I feel like that is so FUCKING UNFAIR. So FUCKING angry at God… if he even exists… I want him to, because it means maybe there IS something after this … but at the same time I cannot stand to not hate the very entity that took you away… ripped you from our lives so callously as if we never deserved you.
I am SO angry these days and I think a lot of it stems from me bottling up that you are gone. Most days I am numb. So numb, I don’t even think of you and when the feelings rush back, guilt is at the very top because I SHOULD be thinking of you every waking and non-waking moment. Yet that numbness keeps me a little sane. It keeps me from not being in a constant state of despair from your loss. It’s selfish. I know. But I do not think my mind nor my body can take these assaults of missing you if they were a constant, daily occurrence. I know that if I didn’t numb myself… I think that white padded walls would be in my near future. I don’t know if it’s a coping mechanism built into our organism. I don’t know if this is “Gods” way of helping us through the loss. I don’t know ANYTHING …
All I know is that I die a little each day on every possible level that a person can die … and that’s okay … because deep down there’s still that tiny little hope that ONE DAY … I will see you again.
I really hope I do dad… I really hope so. Have I said how much I fucking miss you?! Cuz I really FUCKING MISS YOU …
Love (you SO much),
Your Daughter