I’ve put off this post for as long as I can but I’ve run out of time. October is almost over.
Three weeks and two days ago my father passed away. Despite living with this truth in this time span it’s still difficult in a harsh light of day sort of way to see it written so plainly.
I began this blog post two days after he died, when my life was chaos and every breath I’d taken since felt like it was being stolen from me. All I’d had the energy to type was a title that has since been changed multiple times, and the following lines:
Memorial Hospital, Chattanooga, Tn.
The location of my birth, and my father’s death.
For days. weeks now, I thought about that space between the comma; of how long and winding our paths had become after my birth and before his death, and how all of it wasn’t perfect or pretty. How much resentment I’d felt toward my dad by the time I’d left Chattanooga for college. And how I’d learned to let go of a lot of my anger through therapy and simply letting the fuck go of it all.