My Dad died two weeks ago today.
That sounds pretty blunt, doesn’t it?
My dad died. My dad died. My dad died.
I kind of have to keep saying it like that to make it real.
During his illness and the days immediately following his death, I expected and have handled most of the five stages of loss and grief (except for anger; I’m not dealing all that well with anger); however, what I didn’t expect was how caring for Dad and then dealing with his death would affect me physically.
I mean, sure, I expected the sleeplessness and fatigue during the last few weeks of his life (caring for someone ’round the clock while juggling work is exhausting, to say the least), but some of the other physical symptoms — especially the ones that came after his death — took me by surprise.