To Dream Of Sunshine

I got in my car and started driving home and just started screaming crying. I had to pull over for 30 to calm down. I know it’s getting better but in the moment it doesn’t feel like it’s.

I am just so heartbroken. It’s so deep in my chest.

I can’t unpack my dads car. We drove it from Austin to Colorado, and I can’t unpack. His blanket and the laundry he had in the wash are in the back. I had to bring it home, but now I can’t bring it in.

I can’t delete his hbo profile, or Netflix, or Hulu.

I can’t open the shipping box his urn and remains are in.

I can’t throw away his cigarettes.

I can’t read his autopsy.

I can’t listen to the last three songs on his Spotify history.

I can’t let go.

My face and extremities keep going numb from anxiety, chest tight with grief. It feels like I could die from this.

Somatic symptoms my therapist suggests.

Trauma hurts.

I have days where it feels so normal; until it doesn’t and I’m crying at the DMV, Starbucks, eating brunch by the mountains.