my dad has been dead for fourteen years today. and i was thinking that i don’t know what i’m gonna do the day i wake up and can no longer remember the sound of his voice. i blamed him for “leaving” for quite some time so i torn to pieces a letter he wrote me towards the end. unquestionably regretting that one right now. can’t remember a single word.

over the holidays a family member called me by the name only he would use for me and i flinched. i didn’t want to be impolite so i didn’t say anything but it sure ruined my night. that name has been dead just as long as he has. i like it that way.

it would be safe to assume thinking and talking about him has gotten easier but in truth i simply avoid doing those things. because it hasn’t. someone brings him up and my mouth sours. i feel like i have something stuck in my throat when someone asks what his favorite food was or what he liked to do when he wasn’t working. and if i let myself think about all the things he did because he loved me and all the things we did together for more than a few seconds, my day is immediately over.

not going anywhere with this i just. fourteen years. that’s a long time to grieve and i don’t see an end to it.