At the end of of it all, when everyone leaves, you are left with yourself and your grief. All the love for them inside you, now without a place to go. All the promises made to each other, one side constantly unfulfilled. I must have told my father how much I adore him, a thousand times over, and yet, I wish I could tell him a thousand times more. I must have hugged him a thousand times in my life, and yet I wish I could hug him just one more time. His life gave birth to mine, and my life, forever an epilogue of his.
I hope some day I’ll see a father and a daughter walking together, and not feel the hand that squeeze my heart a little too hard. I hope some day I can think about him without my whole being exploding in to a million little pieces. I hope some day I can talk about him without the lump in my throat leaving me gasping for air. I hope some day I will learn to dance with the grief instead of letting it wrap around me, a blanket of utter darkness.
And on that day, when someone says “you are brave”, I’ll finally believe them.
Ramblings of a wallflower 