I don’t know if people are reading this… if people really read blogs anymore.
Do they? Does anyone really read blogs nowadays? I don’t know if they do…
…well it doesn’t really matter, does it? In all honesty, this for me. It helps me. It helps me sort things. Sort my feelings. Sort my thoughts. And lately I’m having a hard time doing so.
These days I have thoughts,
I have feelings,
coming in from whichever way they choose.
Unannounced. Sometimes, unwelcomed.
But they come. Regardless.
You see, my father died one month ago yesterday.
He got the virus and was unable to fight it off.
It was devastating.
To not be able to visit him in hospital because of visitor limitations within the hospital.
To not know if nurses were really checking in on him –
someone who already held difficulty in communicating due to a growing state of dementia.
To hear him go from being able to speak complete sentences –
to not being able to speak complete words or make sense at all.
To finally make it up to his room,
only because my mom wasn’t allowed to visit due to her equally positive state with the virus.
To not know what would happen to either one (or both) of my parents in this unforeseen landscape of COVID-19.
To hear my dad struggle for breath.
To hear my dad struggle to say my name and “Help” in back-to-back sentences.
To not be able to do a damn thing to make his life better.
People ask me if I’m okay.
After his passing, everyone asked if I’m okay.
He died on December 23rd, 2020.
And it’s taken me this long to talk about it.
I haven’t called one friend to talk about it.
Not one friend.
I don’t know why, I just haven’t. I suppose I’m not ready to talk. Or maybe someone isn’t ready to hear what I have to say. Maybe I don’t know if that someone is really willing to listen. Simply listen to my words. Listen to my heartache. Listen to me break down. Because that’s what will happen if they ask. I will break down.
People ask, “How are you?”
… I say, “I’m okay” or “I’m alright“.
For some reason, saying “I’m fine” is just a lie.
Saying “I’m fine” eludes to being “okay”. And, in general, I’m not okay.
… I’m at a loss for what to say.
I don’t know that I can yet say, “I’m fine.”
To me, that would indicate all’s okay. That I’m emotionally okay. In a good place. That I’ve finally reached a place of being okay with my dad’s death. Because to tell you the truth, I haven’t. I’m still hurt. I’m still angry. And I still miss him.