I wanted this platform to help me deal with my loss however I can’t even go to my first page because the first thing I see is a picture of dad. How funny is that? I think that’s the definition of ironic….
Marvin sufficiently convinced me to join him to a mysterious birthday event written so intriguingly by Ulf, I couldn’t resist. It’s one of the few days I’ve ventured outside my comfort zone called my home. I haven’t left the house in 15 days except for two times and one of those times I met Michelle a blogger friend, I felt so awkward and distant it was painful. I then realized I wasn’t at all ready to face people and talk about my dad. Thankfully Marvin was with me and he kept the conversation for the two station that seemed to take forever to reach. So I went home and stayed home. Until tonight. Ulf had rented a boat to have his 50′th and his sons 10′th birthday party. There were a healthy mixture of people, an eclectic bunch that reflected Ulf and his lovely partner Melodie. My dad wanted to rent a boat next year for his 50′s birthday and make a big celebration, he never thought he would make it to 50
and he was right. That alone made me teary-eyed. The invitation said we’d be in for a treat but we didn’t know until we got there that the party was on a boat.
The fact that his son, Charlie, such beautiful name, has the luxury to celebrate his birthday with his father and the way Ulf put his hand on Charlies head mixing up his hair was the moment I began to venture my emotional roller coaster of the night. Next year I would be half my dads age. He would turn 50 and I would be 25. We would host the party of the century. But it will never come and I felt melancholy standing there in the crowd while listening to Ulf singing, celebrating his son. I felt unprivileged standing there because I will never have that special moment.
I write to process what has happened, I don’t need judgement of my topics nor criticism of my spelling, my grammar or my punctuation. It is not an english essay, it is a way for me to not having to keep everything inside and document and connect with people who have been through the same or similar situations. Because god knows I don’t know how to handle this and I need guidance which is hard for me to admit. Never did I think, even for a second that my first death, my first morgue experience would be my dad. Someone so close to me, he’d became a part of me. He made me who I am and helped shaping the person I want to be but couldn’t, because of anger.
He was my hero. HE IS MY HERO. Nothing is going to change that, no matter what state.
My dad. Died the 29th of July 2014 suddenly whiteout any illness, healthy as could be. Or so we thought. Read more…