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More often than not, my brain feels stuck in cooling cement.
Today was the first death-aversary of my dads passing. C asked me "...if I still felt happy he was gone." It is a very loaded question to me because of the complicated relationship we had; and that he was in pain for 25 years. That understanding of his daily pain makes his death easier to bare...barely.
There are so many different levels to this loss, past and present issues. I continue to think back to the last times I saw my father before the wake. It was 2014, I was trying to find ways to get to the house to pack my clothes. Dad was always home and tried to talk me back into the house after he kicked me out in the winter night. I always said no. We were too alike to live together happily.
I have to come to terms with the fact that I will never be able to have that last conversation with him. Just to hear him say 'I love you' or that he's sorry. Sorry for being so hard on me, sorry for hurting the family with his actions. More than that, I wanted him to apologize for saying "...now I know why they [your ex's] beat you." That one sticks out most in my memory because it's the freshest wound.
I'll never get it, and it stings.