I guess you could say the funeral was "nice", but what the fuck do you really say about your own father's funeral? Sure, it was nice to hear all the good things people had to say about him, and see all the people who turned up, but bloody hell. He was going to be 60 next year, they all should have been there for his birthday and we should have been telling stories about him then, while he was in the room with us. Not like this, not like this. Noel and I made the memorial cards to be handed out, and it felt like we were just making invitations or something to come to a party for him.
Not a fucking funeral.
I tried to be strong and brave, but I really fucking lost it when I saw his coffin, HE'S MEANT TO BE WITH US STILL not lying there in that box.
So close to his body, but it's not really him.
Oh Daddy, we need you here so badly. You weren't supposed to leave us. I see your things all around us, and you need them; your life was so full and filled with dreams, and it wasn't meant to be time for you to go. It feels so cruel and unjust. You can't be gone, you just can't be.