Grief.

It is almost 7 months now, since dad passed away. Within 7 months, I have led a tumultuous life. It began with a new job, surrounding by new people. A new change. A new life. Gradually, grief lessens and I learnt how to smile again. I started living my life as though nothing happened. Yeah, there were times when I thought of dad, and there were times when tears would well up in my eyes, but I brushed them off as soon as it happened.

I wanted to be strong. I wanted to be unbreakable. I wanted to be okay, for my family. I once read a quote, Pretend to smile, and you'll be happier. So, that was what I did.

Until today.

I was reading "The Last Song" penned by one of my all time favourite author:- Nicholas Sparks. It was a very enjoyable book, almost like a chick-lit, until the middle of the book. The book speaks of a father, dying of stomach cancer, and how his daughter defiantly fought for him to live on. This, sounds so similar. Feels so similar. While reading it, it almost feels like I was warped back to a year and 7 months back:- When I first found out about dad's cancer. Dad, had stomach cancer too.

Vivid images and flashbacks of the whole journey was playing in my head, over and over again. From the surgery, to the removal of the whole tumour, to chemotherapy, to radiation, to dad getting well again, to suspected recurrences, to dad losing 30 Kg, to dad not being lucid, and finally till he lose consciousness.

The one image that lingered on my mind, was the image of dad, before breathing his last breath, stroking my hair, with tears rolling down his cheeks.

I have always been a daddy's girl, through and through. Losing him, was like sucking the breath out of me. I felt like I lost all directions in life. Living, without a reason.

I thought, I was over that; but reading The Last Song today proved otherwise. I almost could not finish the book. Many told me I didn't have to finish it, but I wanted to. It is my life battle to fight, and when I finally did finish it, I succumbed to my grief and I had to hid in the ladies for a couple of hours and cried my hearts out.

I miss my Papa terribly. I miss my best friend terribly.

I'm done with putting up a front. I'm done with being strong.

After 7 months, now is my time to grieve.

I wish I could hid my face in his chest and cry my hearts out. I wish I could have him stroking my hair and telling me that all will be okay. I wish I could see him smile and watch his excited face as he caught a fish on his fishing rod. I wish I could smell the musky scent of his after shave and feel the warmth of his loving hug when I'm back for a visit. I wish I could taste the cake he baked, and enjoy the fruit juices he was so good at making.

I wish I could have more time with my Papa. 22 years is not enough. I wish I could see him again, just once. Just once, so I can tell him just how much I Love him. So I can thank him for being such a wonderful, perfect dad.

I wish I didn't have to lose him.

Sometimes, I ponder at my own fate. Cruel. Painful. Yet kind in so many ways. The Man above has taken away the person I love the most, and gave me another. I guess, eventually I will come to terms with Life. At 22, I have not fully grasp the concept of loving my love ones. Maybe given time, I may gradually understand.

Given time...

I need to start blogging again! I wish there are more than 24 hours to my days, dont you? (: