anxious-writer-x

[anxious-writer-x]

Dad.

It feels like my whole world has stopped, but I look around and everything is still moving. People getting on with their days, complaining about the monotonies of life. I want to scream, my dad just died how could you even care about something so small. But I don’t. I feel like it’s better this way to hold it inside. I don’t know if I’m doing this right. But who really knows how they’re going to feel when the man who created you is no longer on this earth. I wish the world would stop for just one moment, one minute, let me recollect myself, pick up the pieces of my shattered heart but it doesn’t. The world doesn’t stop for anyone.

I feel so much guilt and so much anger all towards myself, I keep thinking what if…

What if I called

What if I tried harder

What if I told you I loved you on that last phone call and I’d been stupid letting my pride cloud what could’ve been

I don’t know, I don’t know anything at the moment.

I love you. I hope you passed away knowing that, more than anything I hope you know that. I like to think you do, seeing as were so similar I’m sure at my age you would’ve navigated the last few years of our relationship similarly. God knows we were so alike, maybe too alike, maybe if we were less alike one of us would have broken the stalemate sooner.

I can’t help but wonder why this had to happen now, but I also can’t help to be thankful. I’m not fucking spiritual or into the universes divine timing shit but I can’t help but to think something someone was looking out for us when I spoke to you on Sunday.

Maybe you knew, that’s why we spoke for so long, I don’t know I’ll never know and I’ll always be left with questions. I wish I told you to go get a charger so we spoke longer, I wish I savoured the moment more, I wish instead of being on that fucking boat to Airlie I was knocking on your door to give you one last hug, sit with you and watch a movie. I wish I was there holding your hand when you left this earth. I’m sorry. I’m so fucking sorry dad.

I wish I woke up at 4am when I got that phone call, I wish I had the strength to listen to that voicemail again. I wish I listened to my gut when I thought something was wrong instead of burying my head in the sand.

I wish I didn’t feel like a fraud for feeling like I don’t deserve to grieve you because I spent so many years convincing myself that it wouldn’t matter and I wouldn’t care. I do care. I was wrong, I will always care.

I’ve been looking up videos on grief would you believe, watching fucking videos to try and grasp a concept you hear about so often because no one can prepare you for this moment until you’ve gone through it. Life is suppose to go on, but I don’t know how it can at the moment.

Apparently grief is all your unused love for that person, maybe that’s why this feels like a mountain, one that I can never conquer because there was too much love I didn’t share with you, too many cards I held too close to my chest.

Maybe I should’ve started this a long time ago writing to you like this god knows it would’ve helped and you probably would’ve loved to hear from me. I’m sorry I didn’t write, I’m sorry I didn’t call.

Maybe for the next little while this is how we’ll talk, I just wish I could hear you speak back to me. One. Last. Time.

Maybe I’ll keep writing you letters for years to come, maybe this is the way I rebuild someone of my heart that left with you on Monday.

I love you Dad, thank you. I love you.