Woke up this morning hurting.

“A heart of gold stopped beating, Hard working hands now rest. God broke our hearts to prove to us he only takes the best. We think of you in silence, we often speak your name, all we have are memories, your picture in a frame. A million times we’ve thought of you, a million times we’ve cried. If love alone could have saved you, you never would have died. It broke our hearts to lose you, but you didn’t go alone. For a part of us went with you the day God took you home.”

Isn’t time suppose to make this easier? It’s been two months, yet it feels so new. Every so often something gets to me, a smell, a man in a wheelchair, anything really, and all the memories I have with you replay in my mind. It always ends the same, with you in that bed and tears streaming down my face, your cold skin on my lips is the only thing I can feel. This is exactly what I didn’t want, to remember you in your last moments. Instead of sticking with my gut instinct, I was guilted into seeing you, that wasn’t you though, I was guilted into having my last memory of you being one that haunts me. I don’t care how raw this is, or what other people may think while reading this because sometimes honesty is the only thing I can offer, the only thing that can keep me from going crazier then I already feel. I wish I could remember you the way you deserve to be remembered, smiling, healthy, working on cars and drinking coffee, but I can’t. All I remember is the sound of the breathing machine keeping you alive, the smell of hand sanitizer and stale air. You laying in a bed not moving, not once, no eyebrow movements, no smiles. I can’t breath when I think of it, and yes it’s changed me. I use to be able to see, mostly, pass the machines and still see the same soul now all I picture is a lifeless body. A man I don’t know. I hate that this is how I remember the strongest man I ever knew, I hate that every time I close my eyes that’s all I see. I hate that I feel so lost, I hate that your gone. I wish so much that I could go back and not listen to everyone else, to not be guilted into seeing you right before you died. 
And now they expect me to feel and act normal, to go to an ALS walk tomorrow where I’ll see people fighting the same fight you lost. The same fight that took my dad away and in his place left a hole inside my soul. 
I miss you so much dad, I wish you were still healthy and here, I love you. 
Rest in sweet peace. 


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