Tonight, I cried on the walk from work to the train station. I cried on the platform. I cried on the train. I even cried on the 5 minute drive home.
I have honestly not really cried like this since April.
I am really and truly crumbling under this illusion of Christmas. It’s going to be fucking shit. We all know it is. Everyone who’s lost someone this year is going to have a shit Christmas without them. I thought I was a lot stronger than this. I’m not.
The truth or the fact is that no one knows how I feel. Not even my brother, not even my Mum. Not even his closest friends in the world. Everyone has a Dad, but no one had the relationship I had with him. I’m not saying it was perfect. At all. In fact, I disliked my Dad so much most of the time during my teen years. I would never speak to him when I was at uni and if he picked up the phone, I’d ask him to pass me onto Mum. But we were actually getting a lot closer as I was getting older. I realised there are worse Dads out there and that mine was only here to advise me. I wish he was still here to guide me.
I have started to feel increasingly guilty about the little things that happened this year before the accident. When he invited me out for lunch after I went to see an agency and I turned him down outright, because I had better things to do. When I couldn’t find any couriers in my first week of work and he emailed me a few that would’ve delivered and I sent him back a shitty email. If I’d have known at the beginning of the year what I know now, I would do it all completely differently. I feel like a terrible daughter. Almost like a let down.
I know I have to be strong this Christmas, but I don’t think I can do it. I miss him so much and I wish he was still here, helping me to grow up a bit more.
I’m donating to charity for him at Christmas, for his birthday in January and for Father’s day. And this is just a scrap of what he did for charities, his friends and his family.