It’s Been a Long Year Since We Last Spoke

It’s late. To me it’s Sunday night. My laptop says “it’s technically Monday.”
I’m still awake but I need to be awake in a few hours for work.
I can’t sleep.
I’m restless.
I am about to face the hardest week.
It comes to me in flashbacks.
How I felt.
How you looked.
All of it.
You were taken away from me too soon.
I want you back.
I need you back.
I need you to hold my hand one last time
And tell me everything is going to be okay
Or just tell me you love me.
There’s still a hole in my heart from you leaving me.
Her voice echoes in my head
I can still see the snowflakes
And I can still hear your voice telling me, “You better go before it gets worse.”
Even though your mouth never spoke those words,
I knew it’s what you would have said.
But at that point, you had lost your voice.
I hate that I remember
All of it
I feel numb.
I had dealt with this.
I was stronger than this.
Do you think about me?
Are you still with me?
Do I sound needy?
Because I need you
A little girl needs her daddy.

It’s been a long year.

Today’s blog post title is inspired by “For Blue Skies” – Strays Don’t Sleep

Ps. If you haven’t heard it, the song is beautiful: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=UWKP1SwHVqI 

The Thing About a Broken Heart

The thing about a broken heart is that it never really heals properly. All it takes is a moment and suddenly all the feelings you buried away and thought that you “dealt with” come rushing back in a flood of emotion.

What’s even worse is this isn’t a typical broken heart. A broken heart after a breakup can be healed with the right friends, alcohol, bad chick flicks, food, and “distractions.” This type of broken heart literally feels like there is a hole inside your heart, in a completely irreplaceable kind of way.

How to Satisfy Every Aspect of Your Overanxious Life

You can’t.

Just a Moment.

Just a moment of weakness – if you’d call it that. When the thought crosses your mind, it won’t escape you.

You’re paralyzed by the thought. You sit there, frozen in time in space, or so it seems. You don’t want to say the words, but they’re resting there on the tip of your tongue, “he’s gone.”

It’s not that you don’t think about it (because really, when aren’t you thinking about it), but rather you’re thinking about it more. Suddenly.

I can hear him saying, “why do you bother coming home if you’re just going to sit here and do homework?”
My goodness, that used to bother me. I used to resent him for even asking that. I mean, I came all the way home to be in the same room as him. Why was that not enough? Now I’d do anything to hear him say those words because the anger I felt would not be nearly as great as the emptiness I feel in my heart right now.

My thesis professor asked me today how I was doing in terms of losing my father.
You know, today has been the long time in a long time that someone has asked me that. Not that I want to be asked this all the time (because I really don’t), but it made me feel as though it was still valid to be going through the grieving process three months later. I told my professor I used to call my dad every day. He said that must be a difficult adjustment. I nodded. I didn’t have him to call when I got off the plane from NYC. I didn’t get to tell him about my trip. Or tell him I won a bursary. Or tell him that I’m stressed about school.

I miss how he would buy me wonton soup when I was sick or make my mom get it for me. I talk to him as if he’s still around, sometimes. I miss his snarky comments. His stupid jokes. And his big hugs.

So before I either go back to studying or to sleep, I’m gonna lay here on the couch, just for a moment, with one of his favourite blankets and just breathe. Showing weakness (if you’d even call it that) is not a bad thing, for it is from weakness one can build remarkable strength.

The Truth About Night Time

Night time is the hardest for me.

It’s when I’m left alone with my thoughts.
It’s when I miss him the most.
When I hear his voice.
When I feel his hand in mine.

Tonight was especially hard.
I used to call him the minute I walked out of every exam.
Didn’t matter if it was early in the morning or late at night.
His number would be the first I would dial.

And tonight, it hit me.
I can’t do that anymore.
I can’t hear his voice telling me he’s sure I did great.
I can’t hear his voice reassure me that even if I think I did poorly, I did my best and that would always be enough.

I was always enough for him.
I was his angel.
I was special.
And he would forever love me.

It hurts to know I will never hear him say those things.
And I have two more exams I will want to tell him about.
All I have are memories
And a broken heart.

But I will hold him in my broken heart.
Because in time, my broken heart will heal.
I will hold him in my thoughts.
I will love him forever
Because I don’t need to be physically with him to feel such strong emotion.

I will close my eyes and imagine his voice telling me he loves me. Because I know he does.

And before I close my eyes and fall asleep at night,
I’ll gently whisper, “I love you too, daddy. I love you too.”

I miss you every day, daddy. ❤

Be Strong When Things Fall Apart, Honest This Breaks My Heart

“Life is stressful,dear. That’s why they say “rest in peace.”
― David Mazzucchelli

Have you ever felt time go by very slowly? The days blur together. Moments are not clearly defined. Feelings are ambiguous. Or they’re non-existent.

I lost my dad yesterday. I hate putting it like that. As if I lost him in a grocery store and couldn’t find him. He died. And even saying that feels surreal to say.

My parents did not expect to have me. I make the jokes that I was an accident. My mom was in her early forties when she had me. My dad was 15 years older than her. My mom was not supposed to even have children after a bad car accident in Spain. But here I be.

As a result, I knew that growing up with older parents would mean that I would probably see this day sooner than later. I just never expected it to be so soon. My dad has had his share of health problems over the years. I have been there with him through strokes, congestive heart failure, pneumonia, and pneumonia again in his last week.

He went into the hospital on November 7th after not being able to breathe. It felt like every other time. I was worried, without a doubt. But he always had a way of getting better and coming home. I watched his condition worsen with every visit. It wasn’t until the last few days when we received the news that the inevitable would happen. Tuesday night, my sisters and I went to the hospital because we thought it would be the last time we could say goodbye. We had a lovely visit but my dad was so stubborn and so vocal. I could tell he was scared, especially having us all there in one room. Yesterday, I went to pick up my all-season tires at the garage that switched my tires to winter ones. It was right by the hospital so I decided to stop in for a quick visit. When I came in, my dad looked completely different than the night before. He looked at me with this blank expression. He tried to tell me something but he couldn’t speak. I held his hand and told him that it was going to be okay and that I loved him and that it was okay for him to get some rest. He drifted off to sleep, but he was still breathing. I was so scared. I did not want to leave. I held his hand until about 4 o’clock. There was a bit of a snowstorm and all I could think about was him saying, “Don’t leave it too long to go home.” So my mom and I said our goodbyes and we left. About an hour after, I got the fateful call. He had passed 20 minutes after we left.

I think he was waiting for me to get home safely before he passed. Because I remember looking at the clock at 4:26pm while coming into Paris. And according to the nurse, that was the time of death.

Since getting the news, I have been sitting in his chair. I can’t leave it. I don’t know how to feel. I don’t know what to say. I am overwhelmed by the support I have been getting from people. I am so blessed to have such amazing people in my life. I have the best group of friends I could ever ask for, and the best biological and sorority sisters.

As my dad said to me when I would visit him in the hospital, “Life goes on” and indeed, it has to.

Today’s blog title comes from “Please Take Me Home” – Blink 182