I cannot bear a reality absent of my father.
I see no meaning in suffering.
This delicate world.
Music is a connection to him. He loved music. But I still can't listen to the artists he listened to.
My greatest shame: I've let the pain define me.
My greatest shame: I am not strong.
I've fallen behind.
Every memory is tied to him.
He was here and I live in the shadow of his death.
None of it can be changed. It can't be made right.
Writing is the only salvation, the only weapon against death.
Now, he's just a picture in a locket.
People with my father's first name. I still can't say his name aloud.
Sometimes, the only way I can live is to not be in my life.
You can't recover what's lost and you can't recover from it.
Grief has shown me the limits of language.
The burden of survival.
A sorrow has settled in me.
I must go into the grief without having any expectation of getting out.