Too weird to live, too rare to die. 24, Augusta, lover of cats.
My family has always been private about our time spent together. It was our way of keeping one thing that was ours, with a man we shared with an entire world. But now that’s gone, and I feel stripped bare. My last day with him was his birthday, and I will be forever grateful that my brothers and I got to spend that time alone with him, sharing gifts and laughter. He was always warm, even in his darkest moments. While I’ll never, ever understand how he could be loved so deeply and not find it in his heart to stay, there’s minor comfort in knowing our grief and loss, in some small way, is shared with millions. It doesn’t help the pain, but at least it’s a burden countless others now know we carry, and so many have offered to help lighten the load. Thank you for that.
To those he touched who are sending kind words, know that one of his favorite things in the world was to make you all laugh. As for those who are sending negativity, know that some small, giggling part of him is sending a flock of pigeons to your house to poop on your car. Right after you’ve had it washed. After all, he loved to laugh too…
Dad was, is and always will be one of the kindest, most generous, gentlest souls I’ve ever known, and while there are few things I know for certain right now, one of them is that not just my world, but the entire world is forever a little darker, less colorful and less full of laughter in his absence. We’ll just have to work twice as hard to fill it back up again."
-you smell different when you’re awake
-please help me (then smile as if nothing happened)
-you have lovely skin, I can’t wait to wear it
-your hair tastes like strawberries
-he knows, don’t go home.
-I always knew you would die in my arms
-every time I poop I think of you
-no one will ever believe you
-I killed mufasa
-I bet you didn’t feel me lick your ear
-mother told me it would be like this
As I’m scrolling through Facebook, I see all these pictures of people with their dads. The most recent picture I have with my dad is from when I was 9. We were fishing, it was before shit got bad at home. I used to be such a daddy’s girl. It’s hard to believe it’s been 8 years since I’ve spoken to him. Sometimes I feel like a total shit because I have friends who don’t have their dads anymore and would give anything to be able to see them and talk to them. Mine is all by choice. He’s not a person I want to be around. Ugh, today’s just a weird day.