Dead inside

I have come to a conclusion. When my died, some of me died with him. What I mean is, I am a bit dead inside. I feel as though I will never be the same.

I don't know if it was because it was unexpected. Well, he had a type of leukemia but he could have lived for many many years with it.

I believe I had a very special relationship with my dad. We were very alike in many ways. Even when I was a pain in the arse teenager, I would love to hold his hand. I would sit RIGHT next to him. My grandparents used to laugh at me. I didn't care.

When I got the call that my dad died, we were in the car waiting in the parking lot for K to finish her dance class. I got a call from Eric's Aunt who lived across the street that there was an ambulance at my dad's house. I called and spoke to my dad's wife who said they wouldn't do anything for him. I sort of remember handing the phone to Eric. I was seriously on the verge of freaking out. He said they were taking him to the hospital so I thought everything was okay.

I dropped everyone off at home and headed to the hospital. I remember talking to my good friend Natalie who lost her dad about a year before, I said "no one dies on a Tuesday right?" I got to the hospital and I should have known something was wrong when someone came out and got me. NO ONE takes you where you are going, you follow the colored line on the floor.

I walked into the room where my Dad's wife was crying and as I walked in the doctor walked in, or he was there, I am really not sure. He said "I am sorry, we did everything we could". I surprised myself and calmly thanked him and asked if we could see him as my dad's wife was crying hard. He let us know that he would have a tube still in his mouth. We walked it and it was...odd. I mean there he was. Just laying there. Not moving.

Don't get me wrong. I have seen dead people before. My grandparents, Eric's family members, I was familiar with death. At some point my dad's neighbor John and his wife came by. I calmly went out and told them what happened. Called my brothers. Called my mom. I put off calling Eric. That would make it too real.

Finally I called him. I held it together. I remember putting myself across my dad and thinking "why doesn't he hold me?" Isn't that odd? I went to my dad's house and was there for a few hours. I went home and slept. When I woke up the next morning there was a HUGE spray of flowers from my friend Hope. I sat on the couch, when I saw them I started crying.

I think from the moment I felt I had to be relaxed I did myself a disservice. I should have let go in the beginning. I think I still hold back.

Songs make me cry. Nothing makes me cry. But I never really "got it out" I think it died. I think part of me died. I will never be completely the same. I will never be as carefree. I will never be the me I once was.