My dad died.
Three little words, and yet they changed my life. The changed the world, well, mine at least.
I've spent hours obsessing about the final days. Unable to get the images of the gasping breaths he took out of my head. Unable to remember anything except how cold he felt when I went back in to say goodbye one last time, before the funeral home wrapped him in a shroud and took him from us forever.
One the day of the funeral I stared at the box his ashes were in. Stared at it, as if by looking at it I could convince myself that He was in there. "He's in the other room," I kept hearing my mother say to people. He's in a box, a tiny 8x6x6 inch box. Unfathomable. My dad cannot be in a BOX. He could not have died and his body burned until only ashes remained that could fit in a tiny insignificant BOX.
Now don't get me wrong, I was all for the cremation. The idea of his body rotting in the ground was absolutely repellent to me. But now that it's happened I still can't grasp that he was cremated and that all that left of him is ashes.
I'm trying to accept this. Trying to come to grips with "my Dad is dead."
It's going to take a while.
Laurel, it will take a very long time. I don't think this is something you ever get over, you just learn to deal with it a little better. I wish I could tell you the pain goes away, but I would be lying. It does get a little easier, but the hurt is still lingers. There is not a day that goes by that I don't think of my dad or miss him. I still cry almost everyday. I miss that special bond we had and that will be a void in my life forever. But I know dad would still want me to make him proud, so I continue to live my life as he would want me to and I know you will do the same for your dad!! Love you girl!!
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