I wake up praying I've been dreaming. Then I realize it's been 2 months since I've had one of Daddy's bear hug; it's been 2 months since I've heard him say, "I love you." I wasn't ready to say goodbye. I'm still not ready.
I come home expecting to talk to him, expecting him to be there. Or I expect to see his number show up on the caller ID, asking me to pick something up. Walking into the church building is one of the hardest things I do.
Being a Daddy's girl without your Daddy is heartbreaking and gut wrenching. There is a pain that no one can prepare you for when you loose your Daddy. People telling you it gets better makes you want to hit them.
People like to tell you how strong you are. They have no idea how that messes with your grieving process. Telling me I'm so strong because I'm not a blubbering mess on the floor doesn't make me feel better. What telling me I'm strong does is make me feel so extremely weak when I do have a day when all I want to do is cry. A day where all I can do is cry.
Just because you can't see the heartbreak, doesn't mean it is not there. Sometimes, those who seem so strong are crumbling to pieces. I've become good at hiding the pain from others. It's easy to hide when people only watch the surface. People really only see what they want to see. We don't take time to read between the lines to hear what is left unsaid. Often, we don't want to hear the truth. The biggest lie everyone tell is when we answer, "Fine." when someone asks how we are. Maybe the real lie is pretending we care in the first place. We ask, "How are you" as we walk past someone, often without pausing to hear them reply.