Till when will it last?

Hi, Blog. It has been more than a year since I was last here. I can feel the dust settling over everything, the kind that calls for a proper spring clean. But that can wait for another day. Right now I just want to sit in it, in the dust and the stillness, and let it feel familiar again. Like nothing has changed. Like time stood still just enough for that to be possible.

I wish Daddy were still here. Just like before.

I suppose since this place has been so forgotten, no one will likely stumble upon this. So I can just pour it all out here, quietly, without having to explain myself.

I cannot sleep. Again. Every night feels like a quiet kind of torture. What is the point of sleeping when I know I will wake at 2.30, then 3.30, sometimes 4.30, sometimes every hour, and without fail at exactly 5.30am? That was the hour it all happened. And the moment I open my eyes, it plays again. Over and over and over. I find myself staring at that corner of the room where it all unfolded, and it is as if it were happening again, right in front of me. I rushed over once, hoping to grab hold of Dad, only to realise I was somewhere between waking and hallucinating, the scene projecting from somewhere inside me onto the walls of the room.

When will this end? When will I wake up and not have it waiting for me?

God, WHEN?????????????? God, FREAKIN WHY?????????????

You feel so cruel to me right now!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! YOU broke my family. YOU broke our hearts into pieces. Do you know what it costs to live through every single night like this??????????????? The emotion that comes with it. The after-effects that linger long into the day.

It feels like a Job season. First, things began to unravel. Then you took my dad. Who is next? Why not me????

I have tried so hard to be optimistic. I have worshipped as sincerely as I know how. But every time, I find my way back to the same corner of grief, the same emotional rollercoaster with no clear end. The joy that used to rise from somewhere deep, that steady strength that carried our family through every hard season before this –IT IS GONE. No matter how hard I try, I keep landing in the same place of tremendous heartache. An intensity that only I know the full weight of.

I do not feel like I am moving forward at all. So many times I wish I could just grieve openly, everywhere I go, without a filter. But life does not allow that. I have to try to be okay when I am with friends. I have to smile when smiling is the last thing I feel. Because who wants to be around someone crying all the time? I know they are trying their best to comfort me, and I do appreciate it. I truly do.

But God, I just want to hibernate. I wish I could be like a bear for a season. Disappear into a cave, cry and feel everything without worrying about how it looks or how others will respond. I do not feel safe being fully myself around people lately, except for a few who understand. I must seem so different now, even to those who know me well. My self-worth has been on its own rollercoaster, moments of pure confidence and then sudden drops, especially around certain people.

I know grief is like this. I know it is normal. But knowing that does not make it feel any less real.

For every step forward, there seems to be at least one step back. Maybe this will take far longer than I ever thought it would.

People keep telling me not to rush the process, that what I feel is not only normal but necessary. And I hear them. But when will I feel like I am actually getting somewhere? Sometimes I do not even want to move. Other times I am desperate to be free from this stuck, wretched feeling. I cannot put my grief into a timeline. And right now I am grateful I do not have to.

I have been sitting with this thought. Knowing God and His comfort does not take the ache away. He is more like a painkiller for the heart. The ache will still return, because the source of it, missing my dad, will not go away until I see him again. So for now, God is not the solution that removes the pain. He is what makes it bearable. And right now, every second, every hour, every day, I need that.

David grew weary in his grief and cried out to the Lord. And then he left the timing in God's hands. I think that is all I can do too. Whether it takes one year or ten, I cannot rush this.

God, I am so angry with you sometimes. And yet I know you are the only one who can offer me any real comfort. It is hard to hold both of those truths at once.

I need another dose of your painkiller tonight.