Sometimes I Think He Isn't Really Dead

Compared to some, I've not really had that much experience with grief and loss. I mean, yes my grandparents have died and so have a few other relatives, and a few friends but it wasn't the same as when my Dad died. The others who died were old. They had lived a long life. They had been ill and them dying was an expected end to the illness.

My Dad was young. My Dad hadn't lived a long life. He hadn't been ill and his death wasn't expected.

I keep thinking that I've seen him. Driving a car out of Tesco's Petrol station. Crossing the road as I've driven past a Pedestrian Crossing. Sitting in the audience of the Snooker match Flyfour is watching. Walking past the Cafe I'm sitting in.

And that's when the thoughts start.

Did he really die? Was it all some practical joke? Did he just want to see if I would be sad that he was gone?

I know that it isn't true, I know he's dead and it's just my mind playing tricks on me.

I have to remind myself that my Great Aunt saw his body before his cremation. That she wouldn't lie to me.

I have to remind myself that it wasn't him that I saw, it was just someone who looked like him or carried themselves similar to the way he did.

Then there are the times when I suddenly remember that he has died.

I'll be doing something innocuous, like loading the dishwasher or having a shower when it'll suddenly hit me that my Dad is dead and as I sob I wonder how I could have forgotten that he was no longer alive.

Sometimes I think it's because we hadn't spoken for so long when he suddenly died.

If I had seen him every month, or spoken to him every week, would I still forget that he was no longer here? If he had replied to my last email, and that had become regular correspondence, or if we had written letters would I still see him on the face of strangers?

For the many years when we didn't talk, there was still the possibility that he was in the same town as me. There was the chance that the man I saw crossing the road actually was him. There was a chance that the IP address that regularly read my blog and was shown to originate in the Town he lived in, was him.

If he hadn't have died without me being able to say goodbye. Would I still forget? Would I still feel the ways I feel, sometimes all these emotions and more in a single moment? Guilty. Confused. Sad. Angry. Numb. Overwhelmed. Anxious. Helpless. Defeated. Abandoned. Frustrated. Bitter. Alone.

I half feel that I see him everywhere as a punishment and half that I forget because there is no difference between me not seeing or talking to him now and not seeing or talking to him because we didn't talk.

I'm just not sure how many more times I can cope with breaking my heart by seeing him everywhere I go and then remembering all over again.