On this day (November 13, 2020) last year, our lives were turned upside down. This is the day we found out my dad had cancer. I vividly remember sitting on the barstool in my parents dining room with my sister when he told us the news. I remember how calm he was. I don’t remember much after he said “Well, it is cancer”.
Every day since that day, I think about the year before. November 13, 2019 I was preparing to host a Friendsgiving bunco for coworkers. Dad helped me bring tables over and set them up. I wonder now, did he have cancer then? Most likely. But we didn’t know. Today, November 13, 2021, we reach a point where everyday will hold a shit memory from the year before. I remember calling a couple of my friends when I got the news. They told me to stay positive and it would be okay. Deep in my gut, I knew it wouldn’t. Nine and a half weeks later he was gone.
The shock has worn off and has been replaced with an empty feeling in my stomach and a constant ache in my heart. I am mad and sad and a jumble of other emotions. Things are so much harder than they need to be now. I know 9 other people who lost parents around the same time as me. They tell me their story and it only makes me feel worse. I feel bad enough as it is and then feel bad for them on top of it. I don’t want anyone to feel like this. I don’t want to talk about it. I just want to stay as busy as possible and keep adding things to my plate. There is no down time for me. I can’t handle it, yet