Of Letting Go (or not)

It's been almost six months since my father died and I still haven't gotten over his death yet. There are times when I feel like screaming and crying, I don't, of course, I'm good at hiding, pending, bottling up my feeling of loss of a loved one. How coud I ever get over it when I still haven't gotten over my first child's death yet? I don't think I ever will. The difference between them is that I know all the time that my daughter is dead but with my father... sometimes I forget that he's gone and when I'm reminded of it, it feels like a blow in the chest. like a bomb exploded inside of me and I'm left numb for a minute and then I imagine his face... he's so alive in my mind's eye. I find it hard to believe that he's really gone. As I am wrting this I'm in near tears and trying so hard to hold it back. I told you, I'm very good at it. I think I will never completely heal, I could never let go. I'm afraid of letting go. I fear of not remembering his face, his smell, his presence. I miss my father so much. I know it sounds so cliche but I really wish I spent more time with him. I miss talking to him. We talked about God, religion, David Attenborrough, Gringo Honasan, Robert Ludlum and how irritating my mother can be sometimes. We talked about a lot of things, sometimes we would end up in a heated argument but at the end of the day he's still my father and I was his daughter, we would forget about the argument and start another one. Hahaha...

His death's a blur still. All I can remember right now is that I sat in a corner and cried until I couldn't cry anymore while he was lying in the hospital in a coma. I was a mess, I was lost, I wasn't talking, I was screaming inside my head, nobody heard me.
I hope someday I could write about it. I hope it comes back, just have to dig a little deeper inside my brain, I guess.

Easier said than done.