Allison perfectly depicts here the momentously infuriating ‘triple threat super layer cake’ that is the assumption of mortality. Expecting that we have limitless time with those we know, those we love and with ourselves, grief paves the way to a dislodged reality.
When I write anything I publish, I like to envision us in a boat, on a smooth luscious river where it’s velvety and steady, or seated together where I’m using decadent thick paint to tell a story in multiple colours, affecting textures across a canvas. But today, my quill is pointed and the ink is dark. Read at will, I mean with caution.
This post is a cathartic share about the loss of my dad, now that two months have passed. I would have journaled such emotion but I was somewhat lead to share this publicly. And if you know me, I always honour what I’m lead to do. If this blog subject isn’t your cup of tea, I welcome you back next time.
I cried the entire time I was writing this, but I’m angry – I’ll be honest. This is the first time in a long time I’ve…
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