A friend of mine, who has recently lost her father, has started an immensely moving and honest blog about the grieving process and from the perspective of someone actually going through it. I admire her honesty, her emotional openness and her taut writing style. Today, I am reblogging one of her posts for you to read.
A fabulous, and very moving, evocation of the grieving process from a brave blogger. Please read.
I know everything I write is sad.
I know that I am allowed to be sad. That it should be okay? I am allowed to feel like this. But for how long? How long am I allowed to have off days and bad days and angry days and days where I don’t want to give a fuck about anything. How long will people allow me to be on the verge of trembling tears and frustrated clenched fists and skin scratching tics. It can only be getting boring. To have this person who has this baggage.
The excuse can only last so long?
The annoyance of the fact that she whose father has died now has an excuse to hang her head, to feel sick to the pit of her stomach and have tired eyes and mind. The state of her hair because she hasn’t bothered with the effort of washing…
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