Still Breathing

I just read this post today and it moved me close to tears as it very much resembles me saying my final goodbye to my father at his funeral and the feelings that came after. Great read!

Write to Live

He laid covered in a white sheet, his favorite plaid shirt on, eyes closed, lips purple and hands carefully overlapping each other on top of his hard chest. His eyelashes were as long as ever, his fingernails blue, cold. So cold.

I touched him to confirm to my brain what my eyes already knew: he wasn’t there. He wasn’t sleeping. And even if he were, this is a dream I would never see him wake up from. Not this time.

So I kissed his lips. I laid on his chest. I spilled my tears on him as I told him I loved him, one last time. As I thanked him for everything, one last time.

And now I cry, still. On public transportation, during breaks at work, on top of my lovers and pillows, over my phone and cards he wrote me in perfect calligraphy. I cry and scream at how unfair…

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