shattered
People keep asking me how I feel. I'm so tired of answering that question. I'm tired of all the questions. I'm tired of not getting any answers.
Shattered.
That’s the only word I can think of when people ask how I'm doing. It’s the only way I can respond truthfully. Being broken, that implies that it can be fixed. You can’t fix this. Nobody should have to bury their parents so young. My dad was only 44 years old. He was too young to die. He shouldn’t have died. They were all too young. The pilot, Ricky, he was 56; the paramedic, Deanna, she was 40 (and a single mom with three kids); there was my dad… only 44. so young, so full of life, awesome in so many ways you couldn’t even count, most of all:
My dad was a hero.
People don’t understand why I say that I'm shattered. I feel like I'm in a million little pieces and they can’t be put back together. They will never be put back together. Never again. I will always have this empty hole in my heart, in my life. Nothing will ever fill that void. I will never be the same and there’s nothing anyone can do to fix this. It will never be fixed. It just can’t be done.
I always thought I would die first.
And until then, I'm shattered.