After Dad died I’ve thrown myself into work and (unsurprisingly) within a month I’ve got a nasty head-cold. It started with a fever and being unable to breathe. Saturday night I slept on the sofa – so I could get the right angle to be able to breathe.
I know it’s completely natural to be down and run-down after a shock. My cold has done nothing good for my feeling down. I don’t want to say that I’m feeling depressed because I’ve been depressed and I don’t want to feel that way again. Despite what I want and despite what I act like at work, I do feel down.
I’m trying to let go feeling angry at Dad’s disease – not always easy. I’m tired. I’m tired of feeling angry. I’m tired of the sense of loss. I’m tired of wondering if Dad was disappointed in me for not giving him grandchildren. I’m wishing Dad and I communicated better. I wish that Parkinsons hadn’t taken so much of him… I sometimes wish I lived closer – if only to have a better relationship with him. In the end, he was only a bloke and, as with most blokes, he just didn’t communicate terribly well.
So I’m sitting here on the sofa coughing. I’m watching old movies and reading a book that Helios gave me.