Dad died at the age of 62 on November 10 after being diagnosed with cancer and a necrotic lung infection July 1. I expected so much more time with him. As you all know well, it's been hard. So hard. Between covid and my existing mental health issues, I didn't expect to handle this well. I expecting to start binge drinking and self-harming. But, I'm not. Other than the occasional bouts of sobbing and cigarette relapses, I'm ok. I feel a lot of peace surrounding his death, as it was at home and our family relationship was fantastic. I know he died knowing he was loved by all and that he loved us more than anything in the world.

But, I still feel guilty. I feel like I should be a constant moping mess. It's easier to get distracted by work and life now. I've found that I've made it whole days without feeling that shock of remembrance coming over me. I'm not religious, but I fear that if he can see me, he would be hurt over how quickly I've bounced back.

I'm sure this is common, and I know grief is different for all, but I just can't help it.