my best friend’s dad was admitted to the hospital on thanksgiving day. and so, for the first time since almost three years ago, i returned to the place where my dad was last… right before we transferred him to hospice.
i felt a sick feeling in my stomach the moment i realized my uncle was even in the same room my dad was in just days before we said goodbye to him.
i never thought i’d be back there. ever.
there was a lot of emotion—it was tough to be encouraging and consoling when my heart and mind were flooded with bitterness and overwhelming sadness. i looked at his dad… and i saw mine.
but spending the weekend with them there was oddly cathartic—as though i’d gotten some closure just by coming around full circle. like i’d graduated to the 418th stage of grief.
for the first time in a long time, i felt something. i was no longer numb.
i didn’t just miss my dad—i was sad. i was heartbroken. i was angry.
i went home and cried—hard—for about five minutes. and that was it.
it’s the most i’ve cried for my dad since he’s passed, and it was about time.
the sun set, the sun rose, and the next day was a new one.
thoughts & prayers for my best friend, his pops, and their fam.