My dad is dead.

There is this hole inside my heart that will always be there because of this. I watched my dad die and I remember looking at my brothers and sisters and my mom and thinking I wanted to save them from it. I knew how bad my heart hurt and I could feel theirs break too and the pain was overwhelming and i wanted to just give up. I wanted to run. I wanted to run and run and run and run and scream and hit and stop it from being that way but I couldn't. So I sucked it all in and gave up. I started to live in a constant count down of days and hours and minutes and seconds and huddle in the fear of the anxiety of knowing its the countdown of the rest of my life and this paralyzed me. I watched hours pass as I realized I will never get that time back and I used it angry and sad and withdrawn. I counted the number of days I saw the people I love and added it up an realized it was so small and that soon I won't see them again either, so whats the point and I sat in this and hated myself for not noticing all the love around me and wasting my time in my head. Just angry sad confused lost and tired. But things got better. Brian forced his way into my locked heart like an annoying little thing and He just wouldn't give up or let me. He woke me up and made me see that i was needed around here. He told me that yeah maybe my purpose on this world is to make people happy but guess what? I do it so well that noone is happy anymore when I'm not. He said we all have our place in this world and without everyone doing their part it doesn't wk. I knew he was right or maybe I just wanted him to shut up, So i fought back against my own mind. I can tell you that it worked but it wasn't easy. It's still in there today but I can shut it up most days. I can look at the brighter side of depression and get up and do something with myself. Until today. Today I got a letter from a lawyer who needs my signature on some shit about my dads estate and I see the words "Freddy Leon Clark, Deceased." and I cry. And cry and cry. I cry for myself and my family because he was our rock and our happiness. I cry for him too because he enjoyed life. Its like my soul and my heart have turned to liquid and are coming out my fucking eyes. Hahaha But you know what i think maybe its a good thing i cry because I think maybe for the first time I'm healthy enough to understand it and actually cry to heal myself. I miss him and I know that will never change. But I don't have to be miserable about it anymore or beat myself up for things I coulda shoulda woulda done. I know I'll see him again. He promised me that he would always be here for me and I believed him. And my dad was if anything a man of his word. Wow.......seeing that paper was hard and that walk down memory scary fucking lane just sucked but thanks for letting me write it and share it and heal.

Now where the fuck do I find a notary?

Oh and I need a drink.