My Dad has gone.
The reality strikes hard, and I cry.
A cry that feels insufficient. My face can’t contort far enough to release it all. My cheeks start to cramp. I forget to breathe. My abdomen is clenched so tight it aches. I am torn apart by the force of it.
Then I wake up. Snapped out of sleep. It’s 6:49am and that’s my beginning.
The morning sees me drained and irritated and wondering why. I walk and tidy. Change and drive. Wipe and text. Feed and cuddle.
Always, simmering beneath the surface. Always wanting to retreat. To escape in sleep.
Ah, yes. The dream. Sleep, not such a reliable interlude.
Not a dream. A reality, crushed down so I can live. It tries to resurface. Too big for where it’s kept.
I woke up feeling the intense pain. But there are no tears in consciousness for today. They are repelled by feelings too ferocious, like the fierce wind outside my window.