Tell me when the grief ends

I wish when people say “it gets better”, they would give me a timeframe, like you will wake up on August 1st and the grief will have gone away. Give me something I can work with because I don’t believe you.

It’s been 7 months since I lost my dad and not a single one of those days have been easy or light. Even happiness after feels different, it’s fleeting, a moment lost in all the bad ones. I still wake up some days and have to remind myself that he’s gone. He’s never coming back.

I have to move on with my life, do things even though he won’t be there to see me do. Honestly, it often feels empty. What’s the point in chasing a career if he won’t be here to be proud of me? What’s the point of travelling if I can’t come home, show him all the pictures and answer all of his excited questions.

Just generally, what is the point?

The funny thing is people expect you to be over it somewhat. I can only put it down to the fact that death and grief make people uncomfortable. Especially if they haven’t experienced it, it’s not a topic one wants to spend a Saturday night discussing.

But the grief is always here, it is a part of who I have become.

There are days when I’m stuck there, in that place and everything is too much. I can be out with friends having a great time, being my best me and someone will say something that reminds me of my dad. Suddenly I’m excusing myself, saying I’m tired, leaving just to go cry in my car. There are weeks when I don’t have the energy to reply to a single message because I’m alone in this grief so just let me be alone and wallow.

I didn’t consider how my periods would be affected by it. I wasn’t particularly emotional during my menstrual cycles before but now every single time it hits I am a mess. That one week a month there is nothing that will make me happy. The sadness, the missing him is overwhelming and I have just learned to let myself drown in it. There’s no point fighting it off — it lives within me after all.

Then there is the guilt, I love my family and I want to be there for them. I never want to see my loved ones hurt but this is a pain I cannot take away from them either. It’s not something I can carry instead and I don’t know how much help I can be when I’m barely okay myself. The house always feels on edge, like we are just one step, one memory away from burning down entirely.

So when people look at me with those kind eyes and tell me it gets better — give me a date. Tell me when exactly. Explain to me how or just don’t say it at all. Because you can’t promise me it gets better. Because my dad will never be here again and I will never be okay with it,