Today, is my father's b-day. Next month, it will be two years since he's been gone. Immediately after, I could have sworn it would never get better. I didn't know how people went on with their lives after losing someone so close. I didn't care about anything else. I would go out in public and breakdown and I didn't care who saw me. It was like I was in my own world.
I remember it took me about five months before I was able to talk about him without crying. I could even laugh at old stories of him. Still, the first year was definitely the hardest. I had a hard time accepting the idea that he wasn't coming back. I'd have thoughts like "I need to tell Dad that' or "I should call Dad". Once I even thought I saw him, I mean really saw him. It's when the reality hits that you can't call or that it's just a stranger who resembles him, that's the hardest part.
Now, I still think of him everyday and I know I will continue to for the rest of my life. Though the pain is there, it has dulled. Just like they say, time heals all. Of course, just because the wound has healed doesn't mean that it doesn't still hurt or that there aren't scars.
I hope that this helps those who are grieving. I know that after I lost my dad, I wanted to know that I wasn't alone and I needed to know what to expect. I guess I needed hope that things would get better and I'm here to tell you that they do. Just hang in there.
Labels: Grief, My history
