The breaking drift.

Today is my dad’s memorial service. My heart is ripped apart all over again and the gloomy realization that my dad has died lays on thick like a heavy, wet blanket covered in thorns. How do people smile when grieving like this? It makes me angry that someone so humble, strong, loving, and honorable can be gone and yet my birth father, a man who wasted all of his potential and life will likely live to old age. That is not just! But that is life, cruel as it sometimes can be.

Looking at pictures of him is like looking at a stranger. Who are you? Your absence is so prominent that it makes you seem like you were just a figment of my imagination…..please come back. I am becoming who I was meant to be and I so desperately want you here to see it!

I don’t want to go to the service. I don’t want to grieve. I’m drifting in a cold, black cloud and I detest it. I look at myself I’m the mirror and it’s an empty husk that stares back at me.


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