6.2.10

I was told that writing is a good outlet, that it would help me to expresss how i feel. I used to be good at it. I used to write all the time but that stopped and now i can't get back into it and i wonder why? I wonder why I just can't get out exactly how I feel and why now, of all times, it' so hard...

I guess I'm just too afraid to write. I'm too afraid to face the reality of my life and what it has become over the last year. I wont say that my life is hard because it's not bad but it's just not been easy this past while. I've been kicked to the ground and forced to get back up time and time again and there's times I've wondered what I've done to deserve all this, then I feel bad for even thinking that because I feel as if I'm pitying myself, and that's just not me.

The bombshell we were hit with about 3 months ago was that my Dad had cancer again, the second time in a year, except this time it's different. This time it's not going to go away. My Dad is eventually going to die, sooner or later, from cancer. It kills me! It kills me to see this once independent man forced to retire at 52 and to become so dependent on my Mam for something as simple as washing himself. It kills me to see him take so many tablets a day and to get injections day after day just to keep him comfortable. It terrifies me to see him looking so frail and to see that more of his hair has fallen out every weekend that i come home.

I have been thinking more and more about this lately, it's not something that you can just stop thinking about. My Dad may not be there to see me graduate from college, the first major milestone in my life. More than likely he wont be there to walk me up the aisle and to give his blessing to the man that i will eventually marry and worse again, he probably wont be there to see his grandchildren, to watch them grow up and to become good people...

Yesterday, we were at a funeral, a friend of the family's. He was a lovely man, as far as i could see he was always a very happy-go-lucky man but we were all wrong. He shot himself Monday night. The funeral was so sad, as is any funeral, but it really got to me. I sat in the church thinking that i hadn't been to a funeral since my Granddad's, almost 9 years ago and the thought hit me that I probably wouldn't be to another one until my Dad's...however long that may be. I felt horrible for thinking it and tried to get the thought out of my mind, but it haunted me for the whole night. It wasn't until later when I was having a heart to heart with my Mam that I told her my thoughts and she looked deep into my eyes and said;
"Laur, I thought the exact same.."


It's something I have to live with everyday and i try my best to continue my life as normal, as does my Mam, Dad and sister, because life has to go on I guess. The only thing is, I dread the day that I will get that call in Dublin telling me to come home, that it's time...