Sat in bed awake again. This is becoming quite the regular thing. The only difference from the routine of the last few weeks is that I have become accustomed to getting up at three having had a couple of restless hours. Today there has been no sleep.
30 days since dad died or we lost dad (as I keep hearing people say) which throws me into confusion because I do wonder why no one is looking for him. It really is a ridiculous turn of phrase but does shield you from DAD DIED or DAD IS DEAD which are significantly harder to say or hear.
Closing my eyes has become a problem as soon as I close them I see dad as I last saw him. Alone. Opening my eyes is only marginally better but that only opens my eyes to all the things that remind me of him.
The time is passing painfully slow and bitterly fast. I can’t remember how he smelt or hear his voice. Another knock.
Theres a pain in my chest that comes and lingers and its so deep that I want to rip it out.
I go through phases of wanting to see everything that belonged to dad. Put every picture on the wall, wear all of his clothes walk every street that he walked. And then I cant do anything I cant look at the tiniest of pictures or hold his keys in my hand or even say his name.
I think often about what dad would make of all of this. I think of what he would have thought of the funeral. Were the songs fitting? Did we cry enough? too much?
I wonder if Ive got the wrong end of the stick and hes not gone at all. A horrible joke that someone is playing on us. I think Ill text dad and I do and I hear his phone go off.
A song comes into my head and then I realize its the song we played at the funeral and I flash back to the DAD reef and my sister with her eyes closed listening to every note and every word. I think about getting up and touching the coffin and then leaving him.
Then I slump in bed and decide to never leave the house again or speak another word or have any friends or love anyone else again ever.
I get up and go into the room where all of dads things are and I sigh like I do every day and I wonder why all thats left are a few boxes of things and some furniture. And the box with all the pictures catches my eye and I look at a picture of my dad when he was younger and he looks so strong and im so happy that dad is looking so well and for a second I forget why im in the room and I enjoy the picture and then I look around and I remember and I leave.
A friend visits and asks me how I am and I just stare and I wonder why they don't know how I am and why I dont know how I am and I wished they'd never asked such a difficult question so I feign a smile and say im fine or im ok or im sad or I sigh.
Then I close my eyes because Im so tired and I cant go on anymore and my body is fading and I hope ill dream of dad and have a few hours with him before morning comes and I wake up and I remember that it was only a dream and he really is gone.