I am finding it really hard to do anything. I just want to sit here. I am so physically exhausted. I am so deeply sad. I don’t want anyone to see me like this. I don’t want to see anyone either. I don’t want to try to relate to people. I don’t want people to tell me they understand. I don’t want people to pat my back and tell me they can’t imagine what I am going through. I just want to sit here alone and cry. A hole has been shot right through me. It is a blow so deep into my being that it takes me breath away. It feels like a part of me has died. There is no place I’d rather be than sitting here in this sorrow. It feels like that is the only way I can honor my father. I know he’d want me to brush myself off and move on, but I just can’t. The jetlag and the sorrow weigh down my limbs and numb me. My fingers even ache. I just can’t bring myself to care. I should go to the gym. I should go for a walk. I should take a shower. Instead, I look at pictures and listen to music and cry.
I keep having vivid dreams that my dad is still alive. I give him the biggest hug I can. He seems so surprised that I am upset. He seems in disbelief that I would have thought he’d died. The whole thing probably took him by surpise too. It would be so easy to act like nothing has happened except for this gaping mauw of sadness in my being. It is like a wound no one can see.