It hits when you’re washing dishes and cooking dinner. It hits on your drive to work. It hits when you’re awake at 1 am, restless sleeping, the tv still on.

“My dad passed away.”

It hit me hard the other day. I was looking out the window, putting more soap on my scrub daddy while I was washing dishes and realized I can’t pick up the phone and call him and tell him about my day. It’s starting to sink in a little more, but it’s settling. Like digging a hole at the beach and the waves coming over are starting to cover that hole.

It hurts just the same though.

I just stared out the window and took in how days have passed and he’s not coming back.

i will never have him back.

They don’t tell you how to work through death, or how to grieve because literally no one knows how. It’s a different path for everyone.

I will say this always. I don’t know what to do without you.

I have goals I want to complete, but I feel like I’m always forgetting something. I can’t call you and tell you about them.

Realization is trying to understand how to navigate life without you holding my hand and guiding me in some way. Realization is seeing that I’ll never have your laugh echo in my ears again. Realization is knowing my kids will never know you for how we knew you; stubborn, loving, and wild at heart.

my home was with you and it’s been blown away and I don’t know what to do.

-K.