June 11, 2020

 

Dear Diary, 


My father passed away march 6th.  I found him march 9th. My mother passed when I was younger and ever since then I was obsessed with death. Tried very hard to understand it and ready my self for it.  But nothing will get you ready. When it happened I would relive it every day. That moment I walked into his apartment. I screamed so loud. Over and over again until I couldn't breathe.  Eventually it got better as time went on and I wouldn't see the play by play every waking moment. Last night I had the worst dream I think I've ever had on my life. I was in his apartment packing his things and he was standing over me, berating me saying that I was doing it wrong and he didn't know why I was doing it anyway he wasn't gone yet. Cuts to us in the bathroom, I'm sitting on the floor and he's in the bathtub wearing what he was wearing. And he just kept passing away and coming back, each time his face grew more and more distorted and grotesque. I woke up feeling very lethargic and I couldn't differentiate between what was real and what wasn't. My doctor has me on anti anxiety meds that give me really strange dreams, nothing bad, until this one.  He was my world.  He saved me from my mother when I was 14.  He had no idea how to raise a teenager and he did some questionable things but in the end he did his best. He has three daughters total, both of my sisters are 1000 miles away and I just feel so alone.  My fathers whole family is here in Illinois but my anger towards them for not being more active in his life keep me from reaching out to them.  A few of the older family members and my father would have breakfast  at a restaurant almost every week. He never missed it.  When he missed the breakfast of the sixth my grandmother called once. Maybe twice. And that was it. Noone went to check on him. Noone called me to show any concern.  Noone. I found him. Three days later. I can still feel how cold he was on my hand. His face. I can see his face now.  I regret not being there for him more. Not trying hard enough to help him.  We would talk every day if not every other day. He drove me to work every day.  When the stay at home order started and when he confessed to me he was passing out randomly I told him not to worry about driving me anymore.  The guilt I feel is unreal.  I didn't want to do this. But I can't do this on my own anymore.  I can't keep feeling alone, its litterally killing me.  That cliche saying " you could be in a room full of people and still feel so alone " very much applies and I just don't want to feel this way anymore.  

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