It’s been three weeks and one day since my dad died. Only a little over three weeks since I’ve seen him alive. It’s hard to imagine that he was here only three weeks ago. It feels like it’s been three years since he was here, rather than three weeks. Your mind can truly mess with you when tragedy strikes. I wonder if it’s like this for every person who has lost someone important in their lives. It probably is, but mostly you feel truly alone while you’re in the thick of it. Every day I think how I could’ve spent more time with my dad, went in there to say goodnight to my dad the night before, one last night. But I was tired, so I went to bed.
You only think of the what might have beens and could haves after the fact.
I don’t think my dad holds it to me, but still I can’t help but think about it. I don’t want to dwell on the bad things, I only want to remember the good. But sometimes you just can’t help it. Here’s to another three weeks. I hope it gets better.