I’m not sure if I’m writing this for myself or for someone else who might need to read it in the future.

My dad recently passed away. Even writing those words feels strange. I can’t bring myself to say “passed away” or “died”. It just doesn’t feel right.

Honestly, a large of me still doesn’t believe it.

Most days, I still feel like he’s at the care home and I’ll be visiting him in a few days. I’ll walk into his room, give him a kiss, rest my head on his chest and annoy him by touching his nose. We will sit there and talk about what he ate and what he has been doing.

Then, every now and again, reality slips through.

I’ll see his photograph or remember fleeting glimpses of the funeral, just for a few minutes. My eyes will fill with tears for a few seconds, but then it’s as if my mind quietly puts the protective wall back up.

People often ask how I’m doing. The truth is, I don’t really know what I feel, so how can I answer that question? Saying “ok” seems to work with people.

Sometimes I feel completely normal. Sometimes I miss him so much that my heart aches. Sometimes I don’t feel anything at all.

This blog isn’t about having answers. It’s about writing honestly as I learn what grief truly is.

Maybe one day someone else will read these words and realise they’re not alone.

Maybe that someone will be me.