Stuck

It's been awhile.  A lot has happened.  Really, I guess just one thing has happened.  

3 months and 17 minutes ago my Dad died.
My best friend.  My refuge.  My heart.  He's gone.

And everyday it is painfully clear that he is not coming back. Every special event. Every silly thing only he would appreciate. Every benchmark that my kids achieve.  Everyday.

My mind keeps playing this wicked trick on me.  It keeps taking me back to the worst moments that I spent with my Dad.  I'm not talking about fighting or grounding...I would welcome those memories.  Where I'm being taken is to the darkest, most painful moments that will forever be burned into my head.  My thoughts don't just wander back gently; they charge in full-force like a tank, destroying any thing I might be experiencing at the moment.  I don't know when it's going to happen, or what triggers it, but I am dragged back as if I am re-living those moments again and again.

A friend diagnosed me as suffering from PTSD and preceded to tell me that there is no cure.  I'll just have to live with it.  Forever.

There are days that I am taken away so many times that my body is exhausted.  Like an expectant mother in labor, the contractions of these flashbacks use every ounce of energy and leave me drained; waves of tears and anxiety.  My only reprieve is sleep. 

I ache over things that can never be changed.  I grieve for something I can never again have.

I trust in God.  I trust that He will never give me more than I can handle, but sometimes I wish that I couldn't handle so much.  

I know that I will see Dad again in Heaven.  That he is not in pain. And any other helpful cliche that you've ever said or heard.  But, in my grief and selfishness, all I want is to have him with me now.