Last January, I jokingly named 2010 "The Year Things Broke". Later, I revised it to "The Year Things Died". By New Year's Eve I was convinced I had cursed us all. What started as a joke had become a nightmare. An early morning rush to the hospital, and the worst imaginable had become reality. Everything since that night has become a surreal blur. My world has been turned upside down, inside out and torn to shreds. I walk around on autopilot, going through the motions but barely conscious.
The grief comes in waves. A slow ebb back and forth, alternating between sadness and sobbing. A song on the radio, a chance remark by someone and I'm off again. People tell you it gets better with time and I know they are right but the truth is I don't want to feel better. I don't want to move on. I just want to sit here feeling sad and sick.
I haven't seen my family since the day after the funeral and the longer I leave it, the harder it becomes. Going round to my Dad's knowing he's never going to be there again feels too hard right now. It's too much of a reminder that he's gone. I know they wouldn't want me to lock myself away but it's what I need right now.
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