One year ago today, you left this planet.
I cannot bring myself to delete your phone number from my contacts. I keep your iCloud account active. I wished the days got easier, but they seemed to be getting harder.
No words or platitudes help me. The first six months were a blur. I was distracted helping Mom. In these last six months, I’ve been feeling it. My body is giving me hints I haven’t grieved enough. I feel like I’m being strangled.
AND I AM SO ANGRY! I’m still angry at how you caught Covid. It was at a place where “pro-life” people congregated but ignored the health of people because they felt their freedoms were being taken away. As an immunocompromised person, you did everything you were supposed to do as a responsible human, but God didn’t protect you, and Jesus was NOT the vaccine for the anti vaxxers. And the burnt-out, stretched-thin medical “professionals” pushed us to end your life because you were already 77 years old, and their medical treatments only help healthy people. No prayers by the faithful worked. You have always been a fighter, yet your poor body couldn’t fight it. And my last time seeing you was through a window. It was seconds before the ICU doctor started intubation. You waved at me one last time. I saw in your eyes how much you loved me. We could not properly say goodbye or comfort you in your last days. I hate that you were alone. Yet, you still seemed hopeful up until the end.
This time, I got disappointed in our friends and family, who I thought would be there for us but were nowhere to be found. I found people who stepped up, who I never expected.
But you always hoped for the best, even in your last days. So I will try to laugh and find joy today. I know you would want me to do that.
We love and miss you, Dad. ❤️