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.