Lysander said, "You're freshly wounded." He said, "It's been a tough month."
I said, "It's been a tough year."
Dad and I talked the other night. He's back in Canada. He asked how I'm doing post-death. I told him: not great. I'm okay, and then I'm not, and then I am.
I told dad my main priority right now is to spend time with my dead friend's daughter. I feel a lot of guilt that I couldn't have those difficult conversations about death when my friend and I still had time. It was too sad. I wasn't strong enough. Because, well, I wasn't.
But I'm strong enough to be there for that little girl. I'm strong enough to make sure she always has a safe space and people who love her. So that's what I'm trying to focus on; the things I can do to keep my friend alive in this small way.
Dad called me on it. Said, "Yes, but who's taking care of Amanda right now?"
He said, "I've heard all about what you're doing to be there for other people. Who is there for you?"
"Alcohol." I said.