Five months on…

I’m feeling pretty crappy today. I can’t believe it’s been 5 months since Mum’s birthday and the accident. It seems exactly like yesterday. In fact, this time 5 months ago, my mum, my brother and I were at the hospital and a nurse was telling us to expect the worse.

I remember my brother breaking down, banging his head against the wall in complete shock and perhaps guilt after the police had interrogated him and planted all sorts of things in his mind.

I remember calling my uncle and telling him we were at the hospital and trying to explain to him over crappy signal what had happened, that we were in the hospital and that Dad had had an accident.

I remember my uncle staying positive, telling us that Dad would stick out the odds at 50%, but I remember his devastation later on when the doctor said there was now only less than 1% chance that he’d come out of his coma, and if he did, he wouldn’t be who we remembered.

I remember the distinct feeling of shock and numbness that I feel every now and then when I remember what had happened; and I remember the image of walking into my parents’ house and seeing chaos – my uncle giving Dad CPR whilst my cousin was on the phone talking him through it, my other uncle trying to calm my Mum down as she was suffering severe shock.

I even remember the letter I wrote to Dad on pink A5 post-it notes when he was in his coma after coming home after a day in the hospital.

These feelings are still so apparent in my everyday life. Last night, I had such a bad night because I freaked out that I couldn’t remember any memories of my Dad. I freaked out that there wouldn’t be anymore memories of my Dad. I started freaking out about Christmas, about birthdays with no more Dad. And people can say “Oh yeah, he’ll live in you”, but that doesn’t help the fact that I need him now, not me. I need his advice on so many stupid things. I need him to take the piss out of my make up looking like a clown, or my clothes, or even when I’m wearing shoes, my ‘toe cracks’, which is a term I taught him the night he passed away.

I don’t know how to end this post. So I’m gonna end it here now. I hope work makes me feel better.


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