How Long?

Another night I can't sleep. Water overflows the floodbanks and streaks my face. At least I washed it and there aren't black mascara marks. What is this? Is it stress? fear? anger? sadness? How did I get here? How long does it take to get back?

Everyone is asking me if I am going abroad next year. No, I'm not. I couldn't get the application in on time. Why not? Oh my dad died. I hate saying that. I am not looking for sympathy when I say it and that's what it sounds like to me. But what's worse? Family issues sounds like something that requires therapists and medicine. Saying I was gone for three weeks out of the semester doesn't make any sense either and it leads right back to the truth. My dad died.

I hate talking about it. I hate not talking about it. I can't watch movies where people die without bawling for the next three hours. When I hear about people dying, I want to bawl for three hours. I don't want to be around anyone that drinks. I don't want to spend my time with people who have addictions. I don't know if it is because it makes me angry that they waste their time, money, efforts, love on things that will never give anything back, or if it reminds me of my dad too much to accept at this point.

I think about him every day. I wonder if he's happy. I wonder if he misses me as much as I miss him or if he can see me. I don't konw if I feel guilty for not talking to him before he died or if I am angry that he put me in the position to have to choose college or talking to him.

I want to know so much about him. There are so many questions I never got to ask him. I miss his laugh. I can hardly remmember it. I want to hear his laugh. I remember his smile--his sober smile. I can hear his voice on recordings, but I want to hear his laugh! He was the funniest guy I have ever met...granted I was partial to my dad's sense of humor, but He could make me laugh at the dumbest things. We had dreams of opening a restaurant one day. Maybe it was just one of those things we talked about, but it meant something to me.

He saved every card I ever gave him. He saved every note I ever wrote him.
I want him back. How long does this last? How long does it take before it quits hurting so much to think about him. How long do I have to wish that I could talk to him before I finally understand that I can't? How many typical twenty-somethings do I have to alienate before I get over my fear of people drinking? How long will it be before I can have fun again? How long will it take me to find out who I am without my dad? It doesn't matter how big or little a role he played in my life, he was still out there, and in many ways still a part of my life. Now he's gone. Now what do I do, and how long will it take me to figure it out?!

People try to tell me there is no heaven. I hope with all my heart mind and soul that there is a heaven. I want my daddy to be there right now. If you don't think there is a heaven, don't tell me. For God's sake I will not debate religion with you. I need to believe what I believe to keep me from breaking down. Don't tell me there's no heaven. I don't care what you believe.

Maybe I need my own twelve step program to figure out just how long it takes to be normal.