Sometimes, this thought comes into my head. The thought that I will never, ever, ever again be able to hug my dad and tell him, "I love you." That thought literally makes me sick to my stomach. I suppose that it still doesn't seem like he's really gone forever. It will be 2 years in June, yet, somehow, it hasn't completely sunk in.
It doesn't seem fair that life goes on once you lose someone that you love. It doesn't seem right to celebrate birthdays, Christmases, new years, new births. It feels wrong for the rest of the world to keep going when your own, private world has come to an immediate halt.
Fortunately, unfortunately, however you look at it, life does go on. Your love or grief will not diminish with time. Or mine doesn't. Maybe I don't want to be better, maybe I don't want to feel "okay," because if I do, then I've become "okay" with losing my dad, and "okay" with the fact that he's not here anymore.
I'm not okay. I'm not okay with any of this, and I'm not ready to be. I think I'll refuse to let my father's death sink in, and continue to not feel anything, because whatever I feel, I don't want to feel okay.
