The last two weeks have been hard. The holidays without my dad are really bleak, but we have to soldier on. Life goes on and all that bullcrap, even though the house feels so damn empty without him.
There's too much quiet.
Quiet that I once thought I wanted.
I was wrong.
I think I might almost sell my soul to have him back in the hospital bed calling for me or my nephew, Raymond for a Boost or to use the "bucket."
It doesn't help matters when some well meaning people send the wrong words in their sympathy cards. Please don't ever tell me that you are "saddened yet relieved that my father has gone home to be with God." I may want to punch you in the throat. I'm having a hard enough time with my faith, and an even harder time with people that are trying to sound compassionate, but come across as sounding foolish and insensitive.
Never ever ever tell someone that has lost a loved one that you are "relieved that they have gone to be with God." I will never ever ever be "relieved" that my father isn't with us anymore.
I've also seen family members beg for sympathy, but never once pick up the phone to call my mother. No one should be sorry for their loss. If you haven't visited or talked to my dad in 10 years or more, it isn't your freaking loss. It is our loss. He is our father, my mother's husband, I realize he's a relation to you, but you didn't lose anybody, we did.
Am I bitter?
Am I cranky?
Is my heart shattered into a million pieces?
There are no words, my friends. No words at all.
8 hours ago