A little girl, not so little, who lost her dad.
Hi. My name is Itzel and I lost my dad to pancreatic cancer almost two months ago. I did not cry badly at his funeral, as in a way I was able to help him go by telling him that me and my mom wanted him to rest, that he had been an excellent father, but that we did not want to see him undergo so much pain. He was diagnosed in January and left us by March, which indeed was a blessing, for he did not suffer long. He was a physician and refused to take a CT scan until it was too late, for his pain began showing since April 2013. I got really mad at him for not taking this test, but pancreatic cancer is only curable in 5% of cases, so maybe this was bound to happen anyway.
I am a teacher assistant in college, and giving classes and having students that depend on me teaching has undoubtedly given me strength to get out of bed. Arranging all the bureaucratic stuff that has to be done due to my dad's passing has also had the effect of making me and my mom take a shower and hit the road.
Pain has been increasing but I can't cry. Sometimes I feel like I just didn't care about him dying and this makes me feel bad because I want him to know that I did love him. I'm mad at everyone for carrying on, mad at the world for looking the exact same way it did before he died. I am mad at myself because I have seen other people grieving lose weight or have significant physical changes. I have had none, I'm still the same.
Sometimes it feels like he was just a dream, and sometimes it feels like I am currently living on a nightmare. The reality of his passing has not yet, I believe, punched me in the face.
I know it is all perfectly normal, but I don't feel OK with this. People telling me it'll take time, that I will feel this and that, but I don't think anyone understands, and neither I want them to. So this is just a summary of the craziness going around in my head. Thank you for reading and I'm sorry if I made grammar mistakes, English is not my first language.