This week, I’ve been really, really sad about my uncle Rod, who died in August. I know it’s only been three months and I’m not supposed to feel completely 100% and that I can still miss him like hell, but oh my god, I wasn’t expecting this. I wasn’t expecting this? What does this even mean? What was I supposed to expect? We didn’t see this coming.
I still can’t sit outside and study in the sun because that’s what I was doing the Friday when mum called me and told me my uncle had been hit by a truck and was braindead. I remember falling on the ground and sobbing and screaming and willing it not to be true. I remember reading the message from aunty Julie, his wife, because my mum was crying too much to read it to me. I remember coming home after his funeral and collapsing on my kitchen floor in tears, begging Rhys to tell me it wasn’t true.
I remember this every day. Every single day I walk in to my spare room and see the booklet from his memorial and the beautiful card his family sent me recently, and it breaks my heart over and over again and I just don’t know how to fix this.
I’m so desperately heartbroken and every day I feel like I might fall apart… But it’s nothing compared to what Julie, Katie and Michelle (and my parents, and so many others) are going through…
But despite this, I can’t believe how much I hurt. God I miss him.
