Thursday, 6 October 2016

Deathday.

It's ten past one in the morning. Not that I suspect you care or it really matters but I didn't really know how else to get started and start I must else how else will I finish and until I have said what needs to be said there will be no bed for my little head.

I finished work an hour ago, stopping off at the golden arches on the way home to fill the never ending gaping hole that is a teenager's stomach. Unless of course it is actually a meal time, then there is no gaping hole but more of a detest of any and all food that is placed in front of them. But I am digressing. Not surprisingly the trials and tribulations of a teenager's eating habits is not what is keeping me from sleeping right now.

Today is the seventh anniversary of my dear old Dad's deathday. Which by the way I think should become a common place term. Deathday. Not quite the same as a birthday but in many ways just as important to remember. I don't want to be all sad and morbid about it because it should be a day that remembers all the joy and good times of a person but it is hard not let the tears gently roll down my cheeks.

Oh how I miss him still.

So so so much. More than what words can ever explain.


All the sighing.

I have been reading through all the posts over at APL that I have tagged with Dad. My nose is now choc-a-block with snot. Why does crying do that to your nose? One of the many mysteries of the world I suppose.

For now though my brain has turned to mush. Words are escaping me and an intense numbness has consumed my body. Oh please don't let sleep elude me.