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How can life continue without my dad? How can I? |
Please respect these dark thoughts as I process my dad’s death. Life continuing without Dad is senseless. To match the drastic change in his life, I want mine to change. I dreaded coming back to the same apartment. The apartment where I lived when Dad was alive. Now I’m in the same place, but Dad is gone. There’s no balance. Before Dad died, I tried moving items around my place to change the energy patterns. Was the consequence his death? Using fifteen tall kitchen bags, I either threw out junk or saved clothes for charities. Nothing has helped. I’m angry. Yes, I know it’s one of the five stages of recovery after death, but I really don’t care. Finding the reason for the anger is an exercise in futility. The crying jags come from nowhere, and often I end up on the floor, wailing and rocking. It happens because for a time my dad’s death lurks only in my subconscious. And then I remember. Dad was my male “figurehead.” The one constant in my universe. He wasn’t cuddly or kind, more stoic and brisk. In our formative years, he rarely spoke. When I broke my foot and hip in 2012, I heard for the very first time, a compliment. Something never before expressed. "You're a good girl." I told everyone I could live on those comforting words the rest of my life. So, here it is. The rest of my life. Mom has always been a strange and unbalanced woman, and now her personality is honed, edgy. She speaks in unsheathed dagger-like words. It’s best to stay silent. No matter what I say, it’s wrong. What’s the point in life continuing? Dad’s gone, Mom’s more vicious, and I'm more defenseless. Wond |