Two Weeks

14597275_1064716990310422_4818927755351556096_nIt’s been two weeks since you passed, and it is as if you never left. I still wake up thinking nothing has changed, and then it hits. I feel the weight of sadness in the house, in the expressions of loved ones, and it feels like I will drown under the weight. Then I hear you in the back of my head. Get up, Papa loves you.  I take a moment, get a breath, get grounded, and then I face the day.

I know that at some point, the grief will lessen, but will the regret?  Could I  have hugged him a bit longer, a bit harder? Could I have told him how I felt about him? These are the questions I am left with, but I also know this self-torture serves no one. Yet I cannot help it.  When is it OK not to be strong? To give in to the tide of emotions inside? There are no right or wrong answers.

So I get up and get through the day. I express thanks to all those who came and cannot help feeling gratitude for so many who showed up and stayed without asking. They knew what I needed even before I did. I hope I can return the favor because their presence made it just a bit easier to know Papa is gone.

It’s been two weeks yet feels much, much longer. How can so much change in just 14 days?  Yet it has, and I keep hearing “Papa Loves You,” and I continue the day in a daze, knowing that this is also part of my life even though it hurts like hell.

Two Weeks. Life Changed. Papa Loves You.

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