It’s almost 5 in the morning and I’ve not slept… it doesn’t look like sleep will happen for me today either. It’s been over 7 months since I lost Dad and sleep has been the one consistent thing I’ve missed. Some days it’s not so bad and I can eventually fall asleep with a specific routine - you know, few glasses of wine, bed and Gordon Ramsay usually does the trick after some tears but recently I’m right back to square one. I find that if I stay in a quiet room, it’ll reduce me to tears and everything just bubbles back to the surface. The silence just makes me focus on Dad, hearing his voice, laugh, seeing him and getting my bosie. I miss my Dad so much my heart is still sore everyday. Some days it’s easier putting on my mask but the past week has been awful.
I’ve been mulling over the reasons why I’m struggling so much mentally (besides the obvious) and all I can focus on is Father’s Day on Sunday. It’s the last first besides the first year anniversary and I can’t get it out my head. It’s all over social media, the adverts are haunting me on telly, I just can’t escape it. I’m dreading it. My birthday was exactly 4 weeks after I lost Pops and every first since then has been almost bearable but this is hitting me so hard. I can’t sleep, I can’t focus, I’m so teary and emotional. I feel like a ticking time bomb waiting to explode at any second. I can’t even really plan anything to honour him as all I want is to get more tattoos! My head is fried. It’s 9 years of worry, 9 years of stressing about my Dad’s health, it’s 9 years of constant going back and fourth and worrying if he had enough food, enough company, enough coal to keep his flat warm. It’s worrying in case he didn’t have enough energy to make a fire, if he couldn’t get out of bed or make a cup of tea. What if he was alone. He was alone! It’s my worst nightmare coming true and me having to deal with it all on my own. I can’t stress enough this is honestly the worst possible thing that could’ve ever happened to me, to Dad. I will never get over this.
Every future event I’m going to be wishing my Dad was there. Every future success, mistake, party, birthdays, Christmas, new year, new jobs, new relationships, new places, new experiences… everything will be new and happening and I won’t be able to share any of it with him. I’m sick of the cliches. I’m sick of people saying ‘oh but you know he’s proud of you’ ‘think of what he’d want’. My Dad would want me to be happy but knows I’ll never be able to be fully happy without him, because honestly? He was happiness! I could never be sad around him. Honestly I could write books and books about him. He was so so special.
A run, a walk, a bottle of wine and half a book and nothing. When will it get easier, asking for a friend.
Oh Watt, Your post was so honest and heartfelt, I just had to respond. No clichés here. Losing the person who was the light and breath of our life, is dreadful, and there is no “getting over” it. Someone said to me “you were so lucky to have had such a close, loving bond with your sister.” Obviously I know that, and that is precisely why this hurts so much. Now that loving bond is described in the past tense (so how could that possibly bring me any comfort?) I agree that nothing will ever be the same without that special person. We might be able to play along, but we will always be painfully aware that some one is missing. (from that holiday, birthday, new job, new home, relationships…) There is a pallor over every aspect of our existence now, I can truly relate. Like your dear Dad, my Sister was the embodiment of joy, and laughter was a large component in our lives.
I too have been struggling with sleep. Grief saps our energy, but then cruelly prevents us from getting the rest and relief we so desperately need. I am sorry you have to be subjected to the relentless reminders of Father’s Day. No matter how we try to avoid it, the media thrusts it in our faces. I am sure this is compounding your grief.
I hear that you are feeling alone, and yes grief is one of the loneliest journeys we will ever walk. It is with us 24 hours of every day, like an unwelcome companion that we wish would just go away.
I am not professing to have the answers because I am still asking the questions, as well.
Why was someone who had so much to offer this sad world, suddenly taken? Why was I robbed of my best friend, confidant, and the person I loved most ? Why was I left here without her, why? I am sure you ponder these questions and more.
I first visited SR one dark, frightening , lonely night, when I was unable to sleep, I was haunted by the memories of her last moments. I did not think I would get through it to see another day, nor did I want to. Then one very warm and compassionate person responded to my rambling, disjointed, emotionally charged post. She embraced me with her kindness and understanding. I did not have to explain, she simply understood. Two years later I am still here, because as we know, grief has no timeline. I have had many more “dark nights of the soul” as I sense you are having. Finding a safe place to express these feelings has been a Godsend. I needed a friend that first night, and I found one (and so many more since) You need a friend now, and you’ve got one.
Here for you.
Xxx Sad Sister2
Hello Steph, I’m sorry you’re having such a crap time. I’m sorry you’re not sleeping. Sleep is hit and miss for me too so I know a bit about that. I’m sorry you’re struggling with Father’s Day. I just wanted to say that you honour your dad every day simply by being his daughter. You don’t need a tattoo, although I get why you want one. You are walking proof that your dad existed and was loved.
My husband’s last Father’s Day was spent in hospital, hooked up to life support; he died the next day. He never got to see his card from our son, which was placed on the locker next to his bed. Every Father’s Day since, we have stood that same card next to his photo and shall be doing the same again this year.
I only had a stepfather and whilst he adored my mum and was very good to her, our relationship lacked the bond of parent and child. I was always a mummy’s girl. You are clearly a daddy’s girl, as is often the case with daughters. Your special relationship shines through the photos you have shared.
'Be still, close your eyes, breathe…
Listen for my footfall in your heart,
I am not gone but merely walk within you.’