Three months

Three months since Friday that my dad has died, and not one day without thinking about it. Until now I have never really found the words to express what I feel and I am not sure I do now. So why try to lay down my feelings about this today? In a couple of hours I’ll be 29 and this is my first birthday without my dad. I received birthday cards from my mum and step dad and from my grand father. They were so sweet but also a reminder that this year my dad won’t send me one. It will also soon be the first Christmas, the first New Year, his first birthday and before I know it, it will be the first anniversary of his death. A series of “first” then “seconds” etc; days that will never have the same significance as before. Days that will be tainted with a loss.

Coming to Geneva was probably the best thing to do for my mental sanity but it makes it also harder. Brussels would have been business as usual. Geneva is different. Different job, challenges, friends, life style, experience, all of which I wish I could share with him and can’t anymore. I still remember the day I arrived here, Sunday 7th October, sending a text message to my mum to tell her I arrived safely and then nearly sending it to my dad. I also remember not been able to sleep the first month I lived here. Worried about all the stupid paperwork but also because I kept dreaming about him, waking up in sweat convinced it was all a bad dream and that he was still alive. Except he isn’t. I can’t send him text messages about what I am doing here, about the challenges in my new job, the beautiful place I live in, the friends I made. The hardest until now was the week that I was working at the UN. I think he would have been proud of me had he known.

I know that time is a great healer and that over time it will all be easier. My mum, step dad and friends have all been extremely supportive and I wouldn’t have made it without their help. Also, as I said before, it’s the first for everything so the loss is emphasized. Those “special” days will never really be the same anyway. But what if I forget? What if one day, it’s the 14th of September and I completely forget it’s the day my dad died. Or I forget his birthday.

I miss you dad, and I wish you were here.