daddy

I can't really remember ever talking about my dad on the blog. I might be wrong, but in general I don't talk about him a lot. Sometimes it's because I can physically feel the awkwardness it causes to other people when you casually mention your father is dead ("Oh, I'm sorry, I didn't know.." "Oh, it's fine! Nothing to be sorry about!" "..."), sometimes it's because I still don't feel like talking about it. Most of my friends never met my dad so they don't know what he was like and I can't talk about him with them. And my semi-dysfunctional family hardly ever mentions him either, so at times I strongly feel like he's being forgotten about and I hate that. Because I still do remember everything like it was yesterday. I remember how I stopped going to the hospital as seeing the cancer literally eating up my father and him getting so weak was too much for me. I remember mum coming home from the hospital with dad's suitcase and myself asking if he was coming home. I remember the look on her face, and holding my sobbing mother in my arms. I remember my teacher telling about his death to my whole class the next day and how most of them thought it was a joke. I remember how much everyone cried and I didn't. I also remember the night I first cried about dad's death years and years after it all happened. And I remember the first time I couldn't remember what he looked like and how shocked that made me. Remembering it all can be so painful, but after all the memories are all that I have. It's been 11 years today. The 7th December is always the hardest for me and today I cannot believe how much I miss having a father.

It's also my mum's cousin's funeral today. He was my favourite of all her cousins (my mum actually has so many cousins that I haven't met even half of them), and I'm really disappointed in myself for not making the effort to be there. All in all, it's been a pretty forlorn day.