Life is Cruel. Death is kind.


115 days have gone since you passed away. How have I lasted this long?
Each time I breathe my lungs cry in pain and my heart has lost its song.

I can not stop feeling. I feel everything. The toughness of the stitching on the steering wheel as I drive the children to school.

The razor blades at the back of my throat with every swallow and blocked sinuses, my body riddled with infection again.

I can feel the dust particles tickling my nostrils with each inhale and the wet droplets leaking from my eyes.

I feel like my face is numb and yet pained from the constant grimace it chooses to make.

My arms are heavy and tremble with sadness and the emptiness you left behind. That void I try to fill with sweet and comforting food that turns rotten and tasteless in my mouth.

The joys of life have lost their shine and I am trying to find it again. But part of me fears that a life without you will never be as beautiful.

I look at the ones I love with a bruised and troubled heart, wondering what day will be the day we part? Will I go first, or will I once again be left behind?

Life is cruel. Death is kind.

I miss you Dad.



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