It’s been a while since I last wrote about you.  A long while actually.  I think my mind is actively avoiding it because — let’s be honest — there’s no getting over you.

I always repeat it to myself.  It doesn’t get easier, you just get used to it.  I say it to people who keep asking if we’re okay.  It doesn’t get easier, you just get used to it.  I say it to friends that ask how Nanay is doing.  It doesn’t get easier, you just get used to it.  I’ve said it so many times, they had stopped asking.

This is a crappy club.  Two of my childhood friends belong to this club.  This no getting over club.  This forever taking a leave on your birthday club.  This no walk down the aisle club.  It’s a fucking crappy club.  More and more milestones are coming, and this is an absolute worldsuck crappy club to be a part of.

It doesn’t get easier, you just get used to it.

I want to blame everything on you so bad.  I really do.  I remember the times when you are just so hard headed and refused to visit the doctor.  I even threatened to not come home until you see a doctor; you countered you won’t see one until I came home.

I came home.  You didn’t go anywhere.

And now, I have to marry the love of my life without you.  I am attending weddings left and right, and I am pestered with everyone’s thank you speeches and father-daughter dances.  They are all lined up, wall to wall, all the things that I am now missing because you didn’t visit the fucking doctor.

I so want to blame everything on you.

It doesn’t get easier, you just get used to it.

But was it really your fault?  Or was it just time running out?  I am so over blaming myself for not being there because in my head, I would not be required there if you didn’t bring yourself there.  Or did you?  Did you really bring this upon yourself or was it just your time to checkout?

I don’t fucking know.

I am so angry.  I am livid.  I can’t believe I am here again.  It’s your birthday this Saturday and instead of going to a good buffet, we’ll have to set up camp on damp grass where a slab of stone bears your name and dine on takeout.

It doesn’t get easier, you just get used to it.

I don’t even know if the latter part of that statement is true.

Do I have to pray now to be more accepting?  Do I have to will myself to be more open and embrace your fate as your fate, not a mere circumstance of decisions that were not made?  Do I have to do all that just to get past this huge crap load of baggage?

I am marrying the love of my life, and my issues hound me at night.  I can’t even sleep unless the lights are on.  My dreams are sometimes dreams, often nightmares.  My mind is hardly empty and my head is going 60 miles a minute.

I am so tired of finding reason and being angry.  But right now, I’m just angry.  No reason, no rhyme.  I just want to be angry.

Because it doesn’t get any easier.

Because I have to get used to it.