It feels strange to realise that life does still go on, somehow.
Even though it hurts so fucking much inside, I am trying, trying, trying not to give in.
I am trying to think, what would Dad want?... and he'd want for us to keep living.
Though sometimes that feels so impossible.
We're taking baby steps. Little things at a time, minute by minute. I'm trying not to think too much because when I do, I feel like falling apart. I miss Dad so much. I have a million questions to ask him, and then I realise I can't. I want to hear him say, "come give your Dad a hug" so badly.
So I don't think about it, because it hurts to goddamn much.
Is that wrong? I don't know whats right, or wrong, I only know how to get through the minutes as they pass by.
Trying to plan ahead, think of the future, think forward so I don't start wallowing in grief. It would be too easy to just close my eyes, draw the curtains, and not leave my room for the next few months, but what good will that do, really?
That's not what my Dad would do.
I am trying to be positive, or at least, to not be totally negative.
I have a rough plan in my mind, a 5-year plan or something like it, that involves Russ, working, saving money, studying part-time, becoming qualified (accounting is looking like a real possibility), returning to England one day. It reminds me that there are still things worth living for.
For now, it's a 5-minute plan, each day at a time. Do my tax return today so I can get some money, feed Noel's cat while he's away, read more books (the library really does = love), start writing letters again, listen to good music, talk to my friends, play with the dogs. Hug my mum and my sister all the time. Know that it's okay to cry and be sad, but it's also okay to put one foot in front of the other and try and move forward.
Daddy... we're trying to be okay, we really are.
I'm going to get a tattoo on my shoulder blade, maybe an angel and my Dad's name or initials. I'm not sure which yet.