Saturday 20th of March made it exactly two months since my father passed away. Also the first time I cried in front of my mum since the funeral. It started off as a regular Saturday morning, laying in bed, on my phone and then I remembered and just smiled at the thought of him. I was ready to start my day until my mum started talking about him, the good and bad, everything he would miss, life in her old age without him and I just couldn’t hold the tears back, and neither could she. The last two months have been very very crazy mentally. I’m a very strong person, I adapt quickly to situations and do not like breaking down, but life has really shook me these past few months and I am truly surprised and proud at how well I’ve handled myself. When I bump into people I haven’t seen since last year they all say the same thing. Most of them tell me how I don’t look like anything major has happened in my life, or that I’m still so bright eyed and full of life. I’ve gathered that my grief doesn’t look like what people generally expect, and I wish I was pretending but for the most part I am okay. I choose joy everyday. I choose to be okay every single day, and for days that choosing isn’t enough I cry if I need to. I don't like breaking down because it feels like such a waste, but I’ve finally started doing the right thing and giving myself a few minutes to feel what I feel, when I feel it and let out tears if I really want to.
So yes, on Saturday, exactly two months since my father died I cried in front of my mother for the first time since the funeral. I had been so worried about showing her any kind of weakness, that I’ve refused to cry in front of her so she won’t worry about me. But it felt good to let those tears out a little, and just talking about memories of my father.
Death is such a painful thing. I wish people didn’t have to die. I wish the world would just end instead so everyone can move on to the afterlife together.
People say it gets better, and I do believe that but you never forget and for me that’s the hard part. Never forgetting that once upon a time my father was full of life, he was here, his body was warm, he had a sweet tooth etc. The fact that for the rest of my life little things are always going to remind me of him. If I get married and have kids, they would never get to have a relationship with my father, he won’t walk me down the aisle or hold in his tears when we do the father daughter dance. I was really looking forward to my dad crying on my wedding day, or even how much money he was going to spend to make sure his angel had the perfect wedding day. I would never get to show him things I worked on, or ask him for work advice.
Some times when I look in the mirror and notice the freckles on my face, it minds me of him, he had a lot of freckles too.
Never forgetting is the hardest part.
May the souls of the departed rest in perfect peace, and may their loved ones continually find comfort and strength to carry on.