Today, I’m feeling pretty low and in a slump, so it’s another rambling reflective post from me, I’m afraid. My amazing line manager (I’m not just saying that because she’s been reading my blog recently – honest!) suggested to write a blog about how I’m feeling, just to clear up all the stuff in my head.
I really miss my Dad today and I’ve started calling these kind of days ‘Bad Dad Days’. I missed him last night when I burst into tears, waiting to fall asleep. It’s so hard because I’m not a religious person and I think religious people would cope better because of their faith… I don’t really believe in a God, but the premise of angels has always fascinated me. I have an ‘angel bible’ at home and a few angel books. I have felt Dad around me as my kind of guardian angel.
Sadly, I don’t see him in my dreams anymore – but that started frightening me anyway.
I hear him talking. A lot. I wish I could get him to shut up! Such as when I see someone, I can hear him saying “Hotcha hotcha hotcha!!” I don’t actually understand what it means, but it’s what he used to say whenever he walked into the pub.
It’s things like he won’t be around for Father’s Day, which is soon approaching, or another Hallowe’en in the pub, taking the piss out of their shoddy decorations. Even Sundays in the pub when he used to wear his stripey green and blue rugby shirt.
The reason I started crying horribly last night is because I started treating my scalp. My scalp condition is horrible, and makes me look like I have dandruff all the time. But – and bear with me on this: remember, I am grieving – my Dad had the same scalp condition! And obviously this, alongside whatever else I’d been thinking about Dad yesterday, pushed me over the edge.
I’ve been emailing his friend (well, a family friend) who he shipped over from New York to London. Maybe not ‘shipped’, but brought her back with him anyway! I email her everyday and she’s grateful for my Dad bringing her over. She considers Dad a ‘surrogate father’, so she’s taking it as hard as me – and we’re trying to comfort each other through these emails and, as she said today, he’d be really happy we were emailing all the time. Today, unfortunately and it’s not down to her, I just didn’t feel comforted. It’s just a continuation from yesterday.
Mum, brother and I have to decide what we want written on his plaque. As if a 6″ x 6″ piece of stone is big enough for all we want to say. We have collectively decided we want something a little less morbid, more ‘funny’ (wrong word, but you know what I mean). So it seems that we’re going to have to put a Kim-ism on it. But which one? A work related one or a family related one? There are just so many to choose from. And what, in a year, 5 years, 10 years time, we decide it’s the wrong one? When we were little, my Dad knew a bit of everything in every language. He’d say “je suis un rock star” or “una cerveza, por favor”, and we’d be gobsmacked. “Dad, how can you speak all these different languages?” He’d reply, “Don’t you know? I’m intergalactic!” I’d love to put something like that on the stone, but I think future mourners wouldn’t see the funny side and would think it bad taste.
I thought it was going to be a lot easier by now but it’s not. I’m still crying LOTS every evening and everything reminds me of him. I can’t think of the good times because it just keeps turning onto the fact that he’s gone and isn’t coming back. This is worse than heartbreak. I feel numb, insecure. A bit lost. But whereas, when you’re heartbroken, maybe you’d feel all these for a month or so and it fades. I’m feeling that this won’t ever fade right now. And perhaps it won’t. I miss him so much.