It's been 414 hours...

I lost my dad on October 20th. Today, we picked up his ashes from the funeral home. When the funeral director left the room, I hugged the velvet bag that held my dad's remains. I hugged them as if I was hugging him. My dad. My sunshine. The reality of it all was overwhelming. But he took his final trip home as he drove in the car he had bought my mom earlier this year. It was a gift to her. And now he is home. And that is what he would have wanted. I see him sometimes, I feel that he is near. I welcome his presence anytime. Before he passed, I asked him to come and visit me and mom. It was pure torture to see him die. Every breathe could have been his last. I kept repeating my goodbyes, telling him how much my mother and I loved him. And though we didn't want to let him go, we told him that he need not fight anymore. I remember telling him that we will get on alright. We couldn't be selfish. He was suffering and so weak. I can't believe that I will never hear his voice again. I feel like a part of me has been torn out. My mom has been so strong. I worry that one day she will just crash. She is on overdrive. I can't keep up with her. But everyone has their own way of grieving. It has been many years since we have lost someone close. I don't know what to expect. I don't know how to grieve. Tears fall randomly. Memories come to mind. I miss my dad so much. That's all I can say right now.