Grieving Sucks

November 125th

Coming back after quite a while. Have some update plans. Have some things in my head about the modern web development ecosystem and it seems suitable for here. Obviously properly decorated and enhanced with blinky things and I wonder if that library that made a sheep start walking through your desktop still exists and is safe to use.
But this page stays and when I feel like it I'll talk about my dad and how much it sucks hes gone
Im currently I think in the loneliest part of this awfulness because I feel peoples empathy or performance of empathy for a grieving person lasts about a week. My dad was in my life 39 years. He co-taught me how to talk. Some of my speech patterns I learned from him, he was amazing with words. A thing I could never achieve is his gentleness in delivery. My anger shows way more, my disagreements are way less palatable. But I use old people's words, talk about me in third person sometimes, and make stupid dad jokes that are his. And some phrases he said are tattooed in my brain. I'm proud of that. My dad was a writer.
He would read over my shoulder when i wrote in the computer as a kid and I hated it. I understand the kid I was that wanted privacy. I now can also understand the adult that finds a glimpse into a child they love thoughts and how they express them delightful. As an adult, sometimes I'd mention I was preparing a work presentation or a school essay and he'd ask if I felt comfortable sending it to him because he was interested. He never understood totally my current job. Still managed to make notes and say a lot of kind things after reading a slides presentation about web design good practices. Loved that guy.

October 10th

I wont journal much today. I'm awful sleepy and it's been a warm day. My SIL wrote to me to ask how I was, my uncle invited me to the dog park. My mom seems happy on her trip. I just came back from a long walk with the dog. It's humid and hot, my dad would probably have cancelled me a day like this. We hate hot days
I feel I can't grasp the reality of him being gone. He does not feel gone. My brain is still wired into thinking I'll be able to show him my dogs haircut pics or ask him to his legal opinion about work contract stuff, or be like "can you believe THIS" over all the horrible stuff thats happening. I still feel his presence and I don't think that's a good thing. It's just my heart breaking slower.

Suddenly very sleepy and once again reminding the awful parts. The waiting, the goodbye, the phonecall. Last time I talked to him was at the clinic when we did not know how bad it was. I felt he was kinda uncomfortable with me being there, like he did not want me to see him ill. He did comment on a very dad way about a glittery bunny pin I was wearing. He sometimes liked that random stuff. I showed him a picture of a bird I saw on my balcony that morning. I absolutely hate myself for every day I cancelled on him because of work or stress.

October 9th

I'm on day one of my leave. Just submitted the paperwork and notice. My mom went on vacation which is good. She deserves to have a nice time and she's in her late seventies so she does not know how much longer she will be able to travel alone. First days after my dad's death I found solace in looking at pictures and listen to his voice in audios and videos. Now I dread to do it, it hurts. I'll try to go through some old albums today. He smiles a lot on pictures.
We did not get along a lot when I was a teen. My school performance was terrible and I'm not sure my parents really know how to deal with a kud that was just more high maintenance than their other kids. They learned. But he never stopped trying to connect even when we did not get along. We shared a love for reading. Had some things in common, some really really not. But he'd still buy me every Stephen King book that came out because I did like horror. He even bought me the Green Mile when it came in biweekly? monthly? entries. I looked forward to it. He didnt read it but did listen or read some reviews and discussed them with me. I don't think he ever read a Stephen King book. Must be one of the few things he did not read.

I do not want to think about it. I play games, do crafts, online shop and watch silly YouTube videos to evade it. Then I take the dog for a walk and cry the whole time. My dog sometimes rubs his paws on the entrance rug. i think he likes how it feels. My dad always found it hilarious. Today he did it too. I want to hear his laugh.

October 8th

I said I'd journal every day. It's been one day and I do not want to anymore. I'll ask for extra work leave tomorrow and I have no idea what I'll do if they say no. Quit, I guess. Someone would say my dad would nit want me to just rot at home but why would I care, he's gone. And me trying to be a girlbossing goid at her job person is the reason I did not seen him more this last months. I have savings, I have some support and either way the planet is dying, the sociopolitical context is a dumpster fire falling into a fascist volcano and my sole ambition at the moment is not to worsen my loved ones life.

My dad paid half of my coding bootcamp when I was well into my thirties (my mom paid the other half). I could never quite explain him what programming was or what I did all day, but I told him it was a good idea and he trusted me. He'd ask me to send him some of my presentations to understand more, asked me the meaning of technical terms, what my clients did, how my coworkers were. He cared because he cared about me. I wish I did something he could understand.

I feel time should slow down. In 13 days it'll be a month since passed. He died on September the 21st ruining the spring forever. Around 11 AM but we already knew since early morning. I want to forget I saw him during that interval, when I already knew I could not hope anymore. I wish I saw him the friday before, we had plans but I rescheduled for sunday. He was hospitalized on sunday. I was able to see him and talk a bit, we did not know it was this bad. But on friday it'd just have been a last normal day. And maybe I'd have noticed he was having a heart attack.

October 7th

This is very much not but I wanted this hobby page to be. But then my dad died unexpectedly two weeks ago. My whole dad, a great loving man that was so good at his job he won awards and is studied in universities. That fought lots of good fights and devoted his life to fight them. And who'd pick his almost 40 years old daughter from her house to join her on a little walk with her little dog whenever he could and she was able, because her idiot mental health got so bad that she barely left her house and dogwalking was one if the few things she could keep up with.
And I do not know what to do with any of that. I distract myself play cozy games, watch old shows, listen to terrible podcasts, buy toys and craft sets for children. Tried to get back to work, it was horrible. The uncaring nature of the working world hit me really bad, I cant believe we're expected to keep on when we're hurting this much. My psychiatrist ordered another week leave. No idea what will happen and I only care because I dont want my family to worry, they've been through enough.But I think it'd serve me good to sit with my sadness a bit. Talking only to people who do care. Doing the stupid little things stupid websites tell you to do with the grief like journaling, seeking support and for god's sake stop forgetting to shower.
This is my journaling thing now. It feels a tad less lonely but at the same time safe. Except for two people I trust infinitely and who probably do not come here looking for updates anyway, no one knows who I am here. It's like private but not totally. Feels right. I hope someday I get to just enjoy little silly hobbies again, it will not be today.

I'm trying not to allow myself to evade the awful truth all day long. I'm told it's unhealthy, can't care but know I should. Sadly, looking the fact that my dad is all gone complete freaks me out. It's too much and I cannot deal. He was such a huge presence. He loved so much and was loved so much. I have so many smiling pictures of him. In every single one it looks as if he was having the best day of his life. He was aware of having had a heart attack for a very brief period of time. I hate that that's the last thing he ever experienced. Fear. Then day after day of sleeping and now nothing. He was building a house to spend his elder years with the love of his life. We bought fruit trees for it. He will never see that house or get to wee those trees bloom. Make that make sense.