My birthday was really hard on me. There was no phone call from my dad, just a card inscribed with a scribbled hand, "love you always, Dad." I appreciate the thought, the time it took to write, but it isn't his handwriting. It isn't him and it makes me cry.
I went to the chiropractor and sobbed the entire way home. Probably because I was alone in the car, it was a beautiful sunny day (which just makes me feel sadder for his upcoming loss of life) and I am stressed beyond belief. I literally sobbed while driving, tears streaming down my face. I am so devestated that this is it. How can that be? It seems surreal and too sharp, painful all at once.
I most likely will never have a birthday with my daddy. Even though we didn't spend many birthdays together...did we ever? I still am beyond sad that I will never get the possibility to. When my dad was healthy I had choices and possibilities. Those were stolen from me in December and I will never be the same again.
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