A slap in the face

My father is dead. Forever. Never coming back. Gone. For good and there is nothing I can do to change that. And I don't know what to do with that reality.

How can it continue to hurt so much. As I write this tears are streaming down my cheeks and my stomach hurts with the pain that only true loss can create. The pain that only comes when a void has been created and there is no cure. When you've lost something so dear to you it feel like your chest is going to cave in from the pressure of the loss.

I miss my father.

I miss him so powerfully I can't breathe. I can't function. I miss his smile, the sound of his voice, the way he smelled, the feel of his hugs, his laughter, the way he looked at things, the way he...... the way he just existed and was himself. There is so much I miss about him and I think of more every day. I miss just being with him. I miss him being alive.

I just hurt so much. And it's a hurt that I don't know what to do with. No one can take it away. No one can fix it. No one can even really understand it. I don't even fully get it. I just know that when these waves of pain come over me I can't function. I sit in a chair and moan with the kind of pain that one would associate with a broken bone. I can't breathe, I can't stop rocking. I can't form a logical thought, let alone a sentence. This blog has taken me over an hour to finish because I keep stopping as wave rush over me.

I want something to distract me and take the overwhelming sadness away. But then I feel guilty because I should be feeling this. And someday it will ebb. And then I'll want the pain again. What is that? What kind of messed up logic is that?

I guess by hurting this much I am keeping him with me. Keeping him alive inside me. If I can hurt this much then it did happen and it was real and he is still here a little bit.I just miss him so much.

My sister bought a house today. She and her husband signed the papers. I hate that dad wasn't here for her to celebrate. I hate that for the rest of our lives he is gone. I can't deal with that right now. I can't take in something that big. That huge. That life changing. Maybe it's just hitting me now. Maybe I've been in a bubble for 9 months. Maybe now is when I'm dealing with the reality that is my fathers death. My sister said she sat on her bed for over an hour, crying and holding the box of his ashes in his lap.

I don't know what it is. I'm running from something, have been running from something, for almost a year now. And it's catching up to me with a ferocity I am not ready for. Nor am I prepared for. I don't even know what to bring to battle.