I Can't Breathe

Anniversaries are are big deal to us.  We are always marking the passing of time.  We celebrate wedding anniversaries, birthdays, years in a job, how long ago we quit smoking or drinking, what day you had your first panic attack.  We know how many years ago we lost a sister or a mother or an aunt.  My father died a week ago today.  How can it already be a week?  How can I have functioned (if you can call what I've done all week functioning) without him in my life for seven whole days?  How is it possible? 

I feel like I am trying to breathe underwater.  I feel like my chest is full of holes so the air pours out of me rather than fills my lungs.  I would rather have a limb cut off than go through this pain of losing someone I love again.  It is the hardest thing we do in life.  There are no words of comfort, no one's embrace, no distraction that can ease my wounds today.  I don't want to hear about time and memories bringing comfort.  I know these things.  I've lived through loss before.  Today I want to roll in the razor sharp edges of my loss.  I want to feel fucking sorry for myself.  I am going to scream and cry and beat my fists into the pillows until my arms hurt.  I'm going to be angry.  Not that my dad died, he was suffering and I am grateful that his pain is over.  I am going to be angry at the disease that took him.  I am going to be angry that we can put a fucking man on the moon, but can't figure out how to cure cancer.  I am going to be angry at the morons who think I should be able to shake off my loss in 7 days time and "get on with life". 

I'm going to admit that even though I am strong, I am also breakable and that I am broken.  I am more broken than I have ever been before.  I can't breathe, I cant breathe, I can't breathe.