I sit here writing this almost exactly three months after losing mine. Thinking back to that cool morning in April, which I do so very often, makes me physically hurt.
The fear of losing my dad has always been there. I even obsessed over it, but the morning when my Mother-in-Law told me, “Ashleigh, your dad died last night,” will forever be ingrained in my mind.
Numb. Lost. In shock. Sad. All the things you don’t want to feel wrapped into one moment.
It was all such a blur in the beginning. Gliding through life as it is, doing only what you have to, all while seeing others go on with their lives. And crying, then crying some more. Then crying some more. Forgetting he died, then being reminded and feeling crushed all over again.
So much hurt. You almost feel like you will never not hurt. You wonder if it will always be this way.
I can’t pretend I know how I will feel a year from now, or even three months from now, but as I sit here with tears in my eyes, let me tell you: it does get easier.
It gets easier to feel hopeful again. It gets easier to remember the good times and not only cry because of the reasons he’s not here.
But I cannot lie and say the hurt goes away.
It never will. There will always be a hole in your heart that he once filled.
You will be okay, though. You will smile. You will laugh. You will cry. And you will do all of those things because you loved him.
Grief is just love. And I know that you are hurting. I wish I could take it all away, but I can’t. Nothing can. Time does heal, but it cannot fix.
Please cry. Please laugh. Please talk about him often. And fill that hole in your tender heart with memories of him, and with that, know that he loved you.