now I talk to myself

I still can’t make it a day without reaching for the phone to send Dad a picture or tell him something. On his coffee at Hardees days, I still time my shower so that I will be dressed before he drops by the house. I still cry every time I catch myself doing those things.

In an attempt to gain control of the chaos of memories and feelings, I have started having conversations with Dad in my head. Not actual conversations, but I mentally list all the different opinions Dad would have on something in the local news or politics. The thoughts play out until I settle on the most likely one. Then, I feel like I have a better understanding of how people who don’t think like me are interpreting the situation. Sure, it would make more sense to go talk to people. I don’t think perspective is the real reason I’m doing this. I know it isn’t. Maybe I’m prolonging my grief by trying to actualize the ghost in my memories. This is where I am though.

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