It hurts differently now. 

It hurts differently now. Five years ago my dad passed away so suddenly a blink seemed like a lifetime. It was a wretched pain. It tore me apart from the inside out. My mind became dark and I became my worst enemy. It was a sick,  cold and churning  pain. I was on a knife edge, so close I saw stars. 

But today it hurts differently. It’s like a permanent bruise. Days like this prod at it, causing a dull ache, but it’s soft and the pain dissipates. 

Strangely, I feel sad when I’m at my happiest.

I want my dad to meet my partner, the most amazing man with unbelievable patience and kindness. I want to see them both laugh together as they are the only two people who have ever understood my humour. 

I want my dad to hear my work stories. My ridiculous office and workplace shenanigans. My colleagues, my programmes, my friends, my mundane day to day life. I want him to be proud of how well I’m doing there and how hard I work. He never cared about the outcome as long as I learnt something, tried my best, and was happy. 

And I’m sad for the simple reason this can’t happen. But surrounded by all these people with love and care in their hearts, it would be heartless, wasteful and impossible to stay sad for too long. 

On days like this I reflect.

I miss him. He was unfairly taken far too young, too sudden, but I’m older now too and no longer get want to war with the world because of it. 

I miss him. But when it gets to the point I’m missing my life because of it, I stand up and get out. He’d not want my life to slow. He always wanted me to put my all into it. 

On days like this I’m sad. But it hurts differently now. 
LJ 22 1 62- 30 7 12

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