At 8:42pm tonight - technically tomorrow night but since I know I will not sleep, tonight, my dad died. I didn't feel a thing. I didn't know. I didn't have an intense feeling something was wrong. I went to bed with plans to wake up and have a great day with my babies and welcome dad and his friends back home after their Myrtle beach golfing trip.
Instead I was started awake just before 5am by my brother calling me. Dad's plane was missing. I still don't understand that sentence, how the hell could a plane be "missing" It didn't register at all. I've already written the details and that story down so many times - so no need to rehash. Suffice it to say, it simply made no sense. And still doesn't.
Five years later the pain isn't any less. The days drag by and I smile and am happy but there is always this part of me missing. This part of my boys' that is missing. This part of my mom, brother, family, that is MISSING. And no one can ever give it back. And it isn't going to get easier. Ever.
Death always impacts me. But for some reason there is no healing with my dad's death. I can't seem to find my way out of the darkness. Out of the nightmares that haunt me. Out of the sinking feeling that sits in my stomach anytime I want to surprise a loved one or I let my angels out of my sights. I just can't get past it. Because It DOESN'T make sense. No amount of talking or ignoring or any other thing that has been suggested to me makes a damn bit of difference. I freaking HATE this part of my life. Part of my Story. And it isn't ever going to go away. And after 5 years - it isn't ever going to get easier.
I can't remember to buy milk but I can remember every damn single word and move I made from 4:55am October 3rd to October 17th when I had to stand in front of hundreds of people and give a eulogy for my father. With my then 8 year old wanting held, I had to continue on and speak. And even that I regret. All the things I didn't say that I will never have the chance to go back and say. Whatever. Just another part of my damn story.
This blog was always for me. Somewhere safe for me to write my feelings. So I am. I float through these days hoping to not lose it. Because seriously, 5 years later, I really should be ok with this part of my story.
