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June 22nd, 2019.
This day three years ago was the worst day of my life. Today it still hurts. The pain is still there.
The pain of losing a parent. The pain of losing your dad. The pain of watching cancer take over. The pain of false hope from one doctor. The pain of another doctor telling you it’s too late. The pain of watching him be in pain. The pain of making arrangements. The pain of bringing him home for only two days. The pain of the cemetery directors coming to the house late at night to take him away. The pain of going through the funeral service. The pain of going home and feeling like something is missing. The pain of going through his things. The pain of going into that room in the house. The pain of going to the golf club without him. The pain of life going on without him there. The pain of not having him there for graduation, birthdays, holidays, and special events. The pain of just wanting to call him to tell him good news. The pain of missing him more than anything.
It’s called grief.
June 22nd, 2022.
Today I choose not to let the depression of this day take hold. I choose to celebrate the life my dad lived and all the good memories surrounding it.
It’s grief.
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