In the last year, I have questioned everything. I have lost my desire to write. I have lost my faith in the benevolent nature of the universe. I keep asking myself, what is the point of it all? Does it really matter? I have lost my tolerance for nonsense. I have lost my enthusiasm for maintaining the politeness of everyday life.

Thinking about where I was a year ago today gives me heart palpitations. Last week, all I could think about was how a year ago, I thought everything in the world was finally going right, but the truth was that it was about to go wrong.

I thought it was just another Tuesday, working from home, with my baby growing in my stomach. But by lunchtime, I got the most devastating and surprising news of my life. My world was turned upside down and it has been spinning ever since.

I have thought about that day again and again, and I have remembered the last time I saw you, the last time I hugged you, the last time I heard your voice.

I was stuck here trying to make sense of the senseless. I have envied those who have had the time to prepare for and accept the passing of their parents. They have had the luxury of taking more pictures and videos.

They have had the opportunity to hold their loved one’s hand, to tell them one more time that they love them, and to know that this tragedy was coming. Not me. I was shocked, overwhelmed, disbelieving, and regretful.

If I had known you were leaving, I might have taken more pictures and videos. I could have hugged you tighter for one last time. I could have asked you more questions about your life. I could have told you how much

I care about you and how great it has been getting to know you on a deeper level over the past few years.

But I didn’t get any of that.

I feel like an outsider who has been dropped into another country where they don’t understand the language or the culture or the customs.

If I had known you were leaving, I might have taken more pictures and videos. I could have hugged you tighter for one last time. I could have asked you more questions about your life. I could have told you how much I care about you and how great it has been getting to know you on a deeper level over the past few years.

But I didn’t get any of that.

I feel like an outsider who has been dropped into another country where they don’t understand the language or the culture or the customs.

It’s very frustrating that the world keeps going on while I’m in so much emotional pain. Some days, it’s hard to cope with it. The initial shock and anger have worn off, but the hurt of missing you remains.I wouldn’t wish this pain on anyone.

This past year has been difficult for me. I’ve been through so many struggles, all while grieving and feeling like some of the people around me don’t really care. (I know some of them do, but they don’t know what to say or when to say it).

I’ve felt paralyzed by melancholy, indecision, and grief. I hate that every one I’ve left are photographs, songs, tales, and music.

My worst worry is I received’t keep in mind all of the tales, or your voice, or your recommendation. I’ve already struggled to handle our home injury with out you. I additionally forgot to resume my automobile’s registration with out you reminding me a number of instances earlier than the expiration was up.

If this final 12 months has taught me something it’s how fast and fleeting life might be. It may possibly all be over in a second.

My hope is that someday my motivation to make a distinction with my life comes again.

I would be delighted if I could make you proud, Dad. It’s already been a year since I last saw you and a year since we hugged. It’s also been a year since you power washed my driveway. Sadly, there are some things that don’t have an explanation.

I love you forever and always, to the moon and back.