Healthy body, healthy spirit, healthy mothering. This is the journey I have set out on with my two amazing children.

Sunday, July 15, 2007


My dad is dead.

I don't want to accept this. But I know (in my head) that it is true. I have spent the day trying to get everybody through this. I have been working to get his body home to us as he died in Mexico.

My tears are killing me. My sisters' tears are killing me. My mothers tears are tearing apart what is left of my heart.

I want to hate someone right now. I need a punching bag.

I have thrown up twice today. I finally ate something at 11pm. A turkey sandwich. I have kept it down. I guess that means I will not die with dad. I want to though.

I want to yell at him for leaving us. I want to hear him laugh. I want to be called 'tacer'. Only my dad was allowed to call me that. I want to be held and never let go. I want to scream and curse and howl at the sun which is coming up.

It is 5:30 am and I have not gone to bed. I don't think I can. I will never want to leave my cave of a room again. I can't help it. I want to mourn and scream and cry and never stop. I don't want to be strong.

I want my mom. I want my dad to put his arms around me and tell me that 'life really sucks' but I will make it through this. He never really had to worry about his 'tacer, she's tough. But I'm not tough. I am weak. So very weak.

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