This blog is taking a more depressing and ominous tone than I originally intended, but as a writer, it’s my best form of therapy right now. My dad’s condition has worsened and things are looking bleak. Vocalizing all the thoughts that are swirling through my head and leaving me with a constant migraine is impossible to do without breaking down and hyperventilating. I might keep doing this, I might not. But I need to express my thoughts right now and the only way to do so coherently is from behind my keyboard.
All of my nightmares are about to come true — things I’ve entertained as possibilities but never actually thought would become reality.
I always thought that if my dad died before I got married, I’d have my brother walk me down the aisle. It was comforting to know I had that option. But with the realization that it soon may be my only option, the thought is not so comforting anymore. It’s just the opposite.
So much is going to change.
I keep thinking about all the petty problems I will now have to solve on my own, which is immensely selfish, but somehow easier than thinking about the bigger picture of losing my dad. Who is going to make the internet work when it’s being dumb in the house? Who is going to moderate silly fights between my mom and I? Who do I ask about finances and bills and jobs and other things required of a functioning adult? I know I have so many other people supporting me in my life but my dad is the first person I would go to with all of these problems — no matter how petty or significant. He always has answers, and if he doesn’t he helps me find them. I’m scared no one in my life will have answers for me the way he does.
In worrying about these little things, however, I realize what it is I truly fear. I’m scared no one else will be able to make my mom, brother and I laugh every day and fill our hearts with so much happiness. I’m scared no one else will be able to show us so much love.
*note: as I read over this, I notice it sounds as though I’m referring to my dad as if he’s already gone. He’s not. This is just how I’m viewing the situation at present. Not sure if it’s a coping mechanism, pessimism or just realism.