this will probably be a very short post because i am sad and i just want to sleep right now. i wanted to document this bad night of mine-full of what ifs, guilty feelings, and drug dealer by macklemore on repeat.
when my dad came from texas to south carolina to stay in our local nursing home, i was a stoked child. (i am not totally sure how old I was at this point) I was under the impression that my dad would be cured. he would start walking and talking, and I always imagined myself going to the nursing home as a refuge from my daily life. his room was anything but. it hurt me to see him hooked up to so many things, he had a feeding tube at some point. i was YOUNG, way too young to be exposed to something like this when i was expecting him to be healed and to be the dad I always wanted him to be.
i never visited. after father’s day in 2012 (I think) i didn’t visit him at all. i hated seeing him like that, i was scared and confused and angry that things had to be like this. angry he did drugs, angry i didn’t get a dad like everyone else (so it felt) in the world got. so much guilt is eating at me every day, why didn’t i see him? he left this world believing that his only child didn’t love him, didn’t forgive him for what he did. sometimes it gets to the point that the guilt tells me that it would just be easier to give up and join him. i want to spend my days with him, seeing him walk and talk and eat like i never got to see him do.
little girls should not see their dad immobile.
i want to tell him over and over that i love him, i love him, i love him. i forgive him. and he’s an idiot for doing drugs.
this isn’t a suicidal call for help-this is a real look into guilt i have felt since december 13, 2014. my what-ifs list continues to grow, what if he hadn’t done drugs? what if somebody cured him? what if he was the dad i always dreamed of having? what if he hadn’t been in texas that night?
there aren’t any answers i can give for those.
i just miss my dad a lot tonight.
the pain from death never gets any easier.