I had a dream recently. My dad was dying again. I had three days. Just three days left with him to say goodbye. I couldn't get to him in time and all the grief, the pain of then, came back to me. It always stays with you, but it sinks down deep inside, it becomes hidden. But in your dreams you're defenseless against it. When it returns, when something happens in life to twist you inside, it resurfaces in waking and in dreams.
I'm afraid that I'm destined to lose all those I love. The idea of it overwhelms and terrifies me; to go through all of that again... I'm afraid I won't survive it. But it often seems to me that my hardship in life, my purpose and cross to bear, is sadness and loss. Trying to get through a lifetime of watching and trying to prevent grief.
I know I can't control it. I know I have to put my trust in God. But I don't know how to stay strong and trusting. I am so tired and so afraid.
I want my dad. I'm tired. I feel like I have lived a lifetime of fear and chaos and grief.
It will be his birthday on October 2nd. What am I going to do? Another year without him. Another year of struggle. I want my dad and I want everything to be okay. But God keeps guiding me to struggle. My journey, then, has to be about survival. About remaining strong. I don't feel strong. I feel fragile. My friends and loved ones tell me I'm strong. But necessity gives you know other choice when your world crumbles around you. But each time a new blow hits me, I can feel something inside me being taken away. I don't want to become hardened or bitter. But with an open heart comes more pain. I am a good person. I can't lie or be cruel or hold grudges. I can only love and survive. But I don't know what will be left of me when it's all finished. When my journey ends.

I often stare in wonder at people who live sheltered, blessed lives. They do exist, these people that have never known or felt hardship and loss. I wonder why it seems that their destiny is to escape the things that my destiny continues to show me. I think perhaps I envy them. Or maybe I'm too tired for envy. Maybe I am just a bystander of grief in my own life. I am standing, watching in stunned silence, as it continues to unfold. The never-ending grief.