It's been three weeks since my father died. My mother and brothers are still in shock. We never believed that he would be taken from us so soon. He was 65. We always beleived he would still be here with us at least another 10 or 15 years. We never knew just how bad his heart was. This is too difficult. These last few weeks have been a blur. I go to my job every day and I get more and more frustrated. I get so angry. And now that my father is in heaven I feel that he can see everything that is happening to me and feels even more distress.
It's just no consolation to hear all the platitudes. I don't want my dad in a better place. I want him here with us. With my mother in their house. My brothers have been here nearly every day and I come every day but it's not right that he's not here. We miss him horribly. No matter what kind of crappy day I had at work when I came to my parent's house in the evening's and saw my parents together I knew things would work out. My dad would make a joke or just ask me how my day was. I would tell him all my stories from the trenches and he would make his comments and tell me to keep looking for a better job. I am trying so hard to find a better job. I just wish that my dad had lived to see me succeed.
Why do people have to die? When my grandmothers, my grandfather, and my uncle all passed away I felt sad. But nothing compares to this grief. This is much closer. It is going to take time. But Saturdays now have become a sad day for me. It's when my daddy died and the worst thing of all is he never even made it to the hospital. He never had a chance. He was gone in an instant. How does that happen? Why did this happen?