Funeral Home-Personal Narrative

“I don’t know if I can do this.” I said, the heat of my tears leaving behind a dirty path of makeup down the sides of my face. “I can’t see him like that, I -- I can’t go in there.”
Through the oceans of tears I had been floating in within the last twenty four hours, I had not yet sunk. I had not yet accepted that this was my new reality; that he was really and truly gone. I could no longer tell myself that this was not real.
From this truth I grew wisdom. I finally understood that every person feels pain, but only the strong choose to face it.
I sat on a small red, well-worn couch in the grey foyer of the funeral home. “Maybe it’d be best for you to go in there before everyone else does so that you have time to cope away from the crowd,”

I started from his soft head full of red hair. He was always proud of how long his hair was that came about mid neck. He would’ve hated the way they had it nicely slicked back. Then my eyes moved down to his lifeless face. This strong man has gone to hell and back, yet it’s the first time I have seen him look anything but happy. His big lips were pulled tight together in a straight line. His curly eyelashes lightly cradled the sad air surrounding him. He was so tiny he looked like just a boy even though he was forty nine. His hands were lightly folded one on top of the other and were already turning grey. I kissed his little red head and was shocked by how cold he was. I wished from the bottom of my heart I could warm him back to

Ever since I was taken from my family I have felt unloved and had a difficult time accepting relationships. Because I let the pain of my past get the best of me, I didn’t take full advantage of my Dad while I still had him.
I was a horrible daughter. He was an amazing man who deserved better. I hurt him. Maybe if I was a better daughter he wouldn’t have drank his life away. This is all my fault. My guilt slowly began to devour me.
About a week ago I found out my birth Mom was suicidal. My Mom is also facing dangerous physical health problems and the doctors aren’t exactly sure what’s wrong with her. There isn’t a day that goes by that I don’t worry I will lose her. I am now willing to do whatever it takes to make sure I don’t relive the same guilt I did with my dad.
The crippling fear of reliving that same pain pushed me to improve my relationships. I learned how to be better at loving and feeling loved. Only the foolish are afraid after they’ve already fallen. And the weak hide from pain. I had to be strong and make sure I didn’t regret what I could’ve