With All My Love, Dad

Grief has a few stages.

Confusion, Shock, Denial, Numbness, Anger, and Pain.

Some choose to go through these stages alone, some in company.

Grief is private.

Some may want to talk about it, but some prefer silence.

It is one of those instances in life where words lose their voice.

The emptiness of the space your loved one left behind can no longer be filled. And that space gets deeper and darker by the minute as you think about all the what ifs, and should haves and would haves…It gets uglier as you stare and your insides will bleed. Your breaths carry pain but you welcome the discomfort. Wishful thinking maybe just maybe it will redeem you from what you are about to face for eternity. At that moment, you are ready and willing to sign off the rest of your living breaths to that one person who no longer has his own…that one person for whom you can die a thousand deaths if it means he will be back again in your life, in flesh. That one person whom you can’t live without but you must.

That one person who you owe everything. Your Dad.

Apacha, you have always taught me to take comfort in words. You said it will never let me down. You told me to carry on with my writing through the rough patches and it will make me stronger. I guess it has worked and it was good advice. I started writing with your encouragement. I began this blog because of you. You were my biggest cheerleader, my life coach, my best friend, my precious precious Dad.

Yet, words are failing me today. I am on a rough patch. The darkest ever. The ugliest I have experienced. This loss, your loss is scaring me. There is no come back from this and in my heart I know, I have died with you.

The pain is mind-numbing and the magnitude of it is consuming me all day. I am no longer me. I have gone astray. The little girl you scooped up to plant kisses on her cheeks eons ago is wandering mindlessly in the dark corners of her heart looking for you. She can’t find you. Where are you?…

Tears streaming she stumbles forward into the emptiness of your gaping absence.

I am falling every day Apacha.

But you are not there to pick me up. Brush off any pain and give me a kiss saying everything is going to be ok. There is so much to tell you but I don’t know where you are anymore. I am alone and grieving. Your loss. The pain of losing you is heart-wrenching. It is scary. I am weak. You raised me to be a strong woman but you took all my strength away. I realize today that together we were stronger. Apart, I am empty.

Apacha If you are reading this, could you please come back to me? Like my daughter asked the other day “Can Apachi get a second life Mommy?”

You were a big part of me, did you know that?  I know you did. Yet, there was no goodbye. I was on the other side of the world when you took your last breath. I wasn’t able to see you or hold your hand. Look into your eyes and tell you I am right here Apacha.

I failed you big time. I failed you as a daughter. There is no closure.

I am sorry.

Now let me pay for this for the rest of my life living in a world that you don’t share with me anymore.

Grief has a few stages.  You go through them over and over again until you can no longer feel. Until you are not yourself anymore.