Today is the one year "anniversary" of my father's funeral.
Not only was I witnessing the departure of my biological father, I was also saying goodbye to the possibility that he may one day finally love me. Finally hold me. Finally encourage me. Finally support me. Finally say, I love you Donna.
Instead,
I was left with grief, pain, sadness and turmoil.
I said hello to the loud disrespect by his family members who had professed love at one time.
I said hello to a level of PTSD that I could never have imagined.
I said hello to the cold hard truth- he didn't love or respect me in life, and he quadrupled it in death.
Grief doesn't just happen when you lose someone you were close to. My father is one part of a tag team of abusers that have brought me to the broken place I live in today.
But I still grieve.
I grieve what wasn't.
I grieve what could have been.
I grieve the loss of never received answers.
Why didn't you love me?
What could I have done better?
Why did you treat me so bad?
Why did you participate in my creation if you weren't capable of being the father that I needed?
I'm grieving the emptiness.
I'm grieving the disrespect.
I'm grieving the realization that none of them ever really cared about me at all.
I'm grieving......
I don't know how to fix this.
I don't know how to recover.
I don't know if I will ever recover.
I don't know how to stop wishing that I was the one in the casket.
I just don't know.
But I do know, mostly, that it's ok to be where I'm at.
It's ok to grieve in my own way.
It's ok to be angry.
It's ok to be numb.
It's ok to be hurt.
It's ok to retreat.
I didn't need this to add to the space in my already desolate hell.
But this is my life.
What did I expect?
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