A letter from September 3rd, 2020

Dear Dad, I am writing this on September 2nd at 4 am. I just started my freshman year. I remember you always told me I was growing up so fast and I finally believe it. I wanted to write this letter sooner, but I couldn´t bring myself to it, it was too emotional but for my own growth, I need to. I set to receive this letter on easter, the day you died. Itś still odd to me, you died on Easter of all days. I guess it really shows how much of a Christian you were I guess haha. When I was younger we were so close, what happened? I was daddy's little girl. You were this man of no flaws who seems so strong. What happened? Was it me being a moody teenager? Or me growing up enough to see the flaws? I realized you weren´t so flawless. You had a temper, you drove mom out, you were difficult, stubborn. But you loved me so much. As I got older though, I kept seeing the flaws, they were so noticeable, I became distant. I wasn´t daddy's little girl anymore. I dreaded hanging out with you, but mom made me. I only looked forward to when you would buy me food or take me shopping and now looking back it was SO selfish. You were so flawed but you gave me so much love and more attention than the other children. Did you feel bad about the mistakes you made with your other children so you tried to do it right with me? It's too late too constantly wonder now. When you first got in the hospital I never grasped the situation. I thought you would just get better and that would be it. But you kept going again and again and again. Every visit medication on top of medication. You would take it for a week or two and then stop. Why did you not take your meds? Were your children not enough motivation to stay alive? I never realized it until now, but each visit I saw the light in your eyes get dimmer and dimmer. I never fully realized you weren´t gonna get better, I only thought about it once and brushed it away. I hated seeing you at the hospital, it was a pain to go, it made me feel terrible. I sat in the corner of the hospital room on my phone like a brat, then when I left I gave you a hug like you were some stranger. My last time touching you, I didn't even know it was the last and if I did I would've hugged you so much tighter. My last time seeing you, corona was bad so we couldn´t visit and we could only talk over a facetime call. The nurse held the phone to your unconscious face. Your once full and cherry face looked starved, pale, and sad. Deep inside me, I knew this would be the last time, but I didn´t wanna admit it. I should´ve admitted it. I would´ve said I love you with so much more meaning. Itś a trend with my friends where we just say ily and i love you after getting the smallest compliment or to the friend we aren´t even that close to. To them, I love you is just a phrase, and being wrapped up with them it kind of turned into a phrase for me too. After you died, I never realized how much I love you meant. I love you is pain, grief, heartache, but it's so beautiful, passionate, and real it makes everything worth it. I stopped saying I love you as carelessly now. Because of you, I understand the meaning a little more now. Hearing you died was one thing, but the funeral was the reality. Yes, when mom told me of your ***** I cried many times that day, but the funeral was a different case. It's so much more different hearing someone died versus actually seeing it. I was fine the day of the funeral until I walked into the room. Your body laid in its coffin, your face looked fuller and smoother than it did before you died, but something was wrong. I didn´t really think you can feel the presence of a soul but seeing your corpse lay there, I felt cold. I felt the emptiness in the room. I could feel your soul not in your body anymore. What was in that coffin was purely a shell and you weren´t in it anymore. I cried. I´ve always been content with the ***** of myself and accepting I will die someday, but the ***** of others is terrifying. I have your sweater, auburn hat, sunglasses, and photos of us, around me. It doesn´t feel anywhere near the same. I didn´t think I would miss you this much. I think I just miss the fact I can´t say anything even if I wanted to. I can´t ignore you even if I wanted. I can´t call you and I can only hear your voice in the old voicemails you´ve left me from months ago. I don't have the chance to yell at you or even tell you how much I loved you. I didn´t even know how much I loved you until you were gone. With the end of this letter coming near, is a new beginning. I want the best for myself and im trying to get it, but its so hard if all I do is cry about you. I´ve lost motivation for school and maintaining friendships is so hard. I can´t even watch a tik tok about someone´s parent or my friends talk about their parents without me crying or getting sad. Release me dad, or at least push me past the first stage of grief. I need to do better. I can´t keep being like this, it isn't good for me. I don´t ever want to forget you, but I need to be okay. The album I listened to writing this: A Crow Looked at Me by Mount Eerie Dear FutureMe, are you okay?