Grief is strange. When it first hits you, you don’t fully have time to acknowledge it because life is rushing you away.
When the loss first happens, you are never alone. People you haven’t seen in years pop their head up just to say hi. But it’s the ones you’d assume to be there that are nowhere to be seen.
When you are connected so closely to the death, the looks of pity and sadness are always on you. It’s sad to say but death brings out guilt and regret in some people. Shortly followed by insincere reconciliations but I can’t help but think if it takes my dad to die for you to realise a sorry is in order, how sorry can you be?
But it isn’t the first month that’s the hardest when you’re trying to process the death of your dad. It’s the quiet after the storm. It’s after the funeral and the initial shock when the visitors get less and further apart and people stop asking if you’re okay.
It’s the realisation that this is real. You being gone is my new normal. I realise that I can’t be satisfied with just pictures and memories. I want to see you but that’s a luxury I can never have.
So instead I hold on to the things that remind me of you and refuse to forget the real you. I’m just left with the hope that you’re somewhere nice, reunited with your parents and that you’re looking after our four-legged friends. Say hi to Rosey for me.
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