It has been 19 years since my dad passed from ALS.
Since then, it took a lot of processing, growing up and of course, grieving to build a certain form of self-awareness.
And it's honestly kind of fucked up and all over the place:
. I wasn't even that close to my father, but I bawled like a baby at the funeral. It's not something I fully understand today.
. When he died, it hit me so hard that I spent so much time and energy being upset over super, petty shit. I swore to myself to not let it happen again. But it's from trying so hard today that has given me a new form of stress.
. I am not even sure I am more sad or angry.
. His death taught me that life is truly short, but yet today, I take everything for granted.
. I miss him, but I won't ever accept a reality that he exists. Never ask me questions about going back in time.
. They say that time heals all wounds, but it sure is taking forever.
There are so many conflicts. More than anything, it is confusing. This is definitely not an inspirational post on grief.
But I guess that's how I'll be honoring him.
"I've never been the same since my brother died. There's a melancholy in me that never goes away. I'm 50 percent happy and 50 percent sad at any given moment."
"I don't want to forget what it felt like when he died, because he deserves it. That's how important he was to me. So, if I have to suffer and I have to be sad for the rest of my life, and if I have to be lonely without him... then that's the way I honor him."
It does not fully get better.
But it's okay.
You'll get there anyway.