The world is different without my Dad in it

I feel like even the air hangs differently without my Dad somewhere on this earth, laughing in his gruff, deep voice and shaking his head because he’s “chuffed” with something.

I miss my Dad.

Grief doesn’t arrive when I’m alone at home on a weekend where I can just cry. Instead, it gripped me tight on the train ride home and by the time I walked the short distance home, tears were streaming down my face and I felt like I couldn’t breathe. I got home and saw Alun in the living room. I couldn’t get my legs to move me closer to him. Instead, I leaned my forehead against the back of the front door and cried my heart out.

Alun got up and held me tight. He didn’t say anything. He just held me. It was just what I needed, you know.

I can’t come to terms that my Dad is just GONE. Just GONE! How can it be?

How is it real that if I call my Dad on the phone…if I hit “Dad” on my contacts…he won’t be on the other end, answering with a chuckle “Hi Babygirl”.

I don’t think I can survive this.

It’s too painful.

Published by janetdthomas77

I'm the person who will go into a burning building to save everyone. I'm also the person likely to have started the fire by leaving a stupid scented candle unattended or something, so...you know.

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