It’s been silent

2 months. 60.83 days. 1460 hours.

it seems as if grief is the only thing I can write about right now. It’s the only time where my words make sense and it comes out sounding right.

It’s weird, almost, that I have to remind myself every morning that he’s gone. There’s been so much I have been wanting to talk to him about, tell him about what my plans are in life, what I tried that I think he’d like and just everything else that he’d listen to me talk about until he told me that I talk too much.

He left such a huge impact everywhere he was. It’s like he had his own personal stamp and he placed it everywhere he could. There was something so electric about him, like his energy radiated off of him so much that it just sent waves into everyone else and stayed there.

People will think about him forever.

In the mornings, I’m reminded of him because of the way I hold my steering wheel when I drive, just like him. I hold my arm out the window like he did. It’s the littlest things like that I’ll hold onto so much tighter because every little things has him involved, one way or another.

There’s not a lot of people who can relate to you in these situations unless they’ve been in it themselves. I had a friend take me out for breakfast shortly after he passed and it was nice being able to sit face to face with someone who went through the same pain you did. You can wear the same shoes and walk that same path together.

We had talked about the grieving process and how it’s so important to let yourself feel every ounce of whatever emotion was coming through that day. Anger, pain, sadness, love.

There was a day where I simply couldn’t take it, just being at work I had hoped to go out into the break room and see you holding your phone the way you did, but you weren’t there and it hurt. I couldn’t focus. I wanted nothing more than to just hear your voice for a second.

Lexi had said to just cry. Do not hold any of that back because further down the road it’ll come back and hit you harder.

Writing about him makes it easier for me. I focus simply on the little details that made him, him.

Talking about him fills me with so much love that you could easily hear my words and hear it in my voice how proud I was to be able to say that he was my Dad.

But it’s been so silent without you here,

I miss you.

-K.