I have been told from people time and time again that the grief gets easier. Although it is usually from people who have never gone through losing a parent.
From those who have though, they tell me it doesn't get easier. You just learn to live with it.
I don't want to learn to live with this.
6 months without my Dad has been unbearable and some days I feel like I can't breathe because my heart feels like it's being ripped out of my chest.
Every day I still feel like I am going to walk into his house and see him standing by the counter.
Every day I relive those 28 days in the hospital with him.
I remember calling my mom 2 days before he passed begging her to tell him to get up.
I would put the phone by his ear and I would beg her, crying and telling her, "Mom, make him get up. Tell him we still need him."
36 years old and I still thought my Mom could fix this for us.
I now know that she could never fix this for us but in that moment I felt like a child wanting my mommy to make everything better.
Sometimes the "boo-boos" on our hearts can't be fixed with kisses.
The days leading up to the "firsts" of this year are always the hardest.
The day before my birthday I cried, a lot.
My birthday I cried probably all day. I knew that every time I got a text or a call saying, "Happy Birthday" was a reminder that I would never hear my Dad say it to me ever again.
Every day I beg God for just another day with my Dad or like my sister said, "Just 5 more minutes" with him.
We never got a good-bye.
I never got to hear him say, "I love you or I am proud of you" one last time.
EVERY. SINGLE. DAY.
Especially on days when I get good news and I can't call him to tell him.
If I stay sober through this first year of losing him, it will be a damn miracle.
Because every day, I don't want to feel the grief.
I want it gone.
My mom wishes she could take our pain away.
Mike wishes he could take my pain away.
I wish every day that I could just have my Dad back.
It isn't fair.