I've been without my father for 17 days now.
Seventeen days of darkness, waiting for light. Praying for light. Trying to find gratitude. Lost in the dark.
My best friends know that when it gets dark, the rabbit hole comes closer. I'm afraid to turn it the light or close my eyes, because the dark just gets darker. So I sing to the darkness.
It is impossible to sing yourself to sleep. You cannot sing your own lullaby.
When my mother died, I had so many questions, and no possibility of answers. Death is final like that. So with Dad, I did things differently. I had the conversations. I unloaded my soul over the 13 years since we lost Mom, and we talked. About all the things. I learned from Mom's death, so I wouldn't make the same mistakes, and then Dad died and the questions crept in.
What did he think of me? Did he think of me? Or was I out of sight, out of mind? Did he see me as I am today, or as I was once upon a time? Did he know I'd grown? Did he remember the good stuff, or was I far enough away that when I wasn't there, he reverted back to memories of me when I couldn't be trusted?
And once again, I will never have the answers.
In the 13 years since Mom died, I have grappled with the loss and the questions, and I've grown. But if I'm honest, goddammit, I really do not feel the need to grow like that all over again. I wasn't prepared to have my heart broken, because now here I am without my dad, without my answers.
This is a lonely place to be. It's isolating and terrifying and I can't much cope with the darkness. It's been about two months since I've had a good night's sleep and I don't know how long this can last.
I don't know. I don't know. I don't know.
From here, there is nothing but questions and sadness. I'm pretty much just waiting here for one good thing. Just one good thing. I don't think it's too much to expect that something good will happen in a year that has thus far cracked me open in all the worst possible ways. Because there are only so many nights I can sing in the dark.