October 10th Saturday.
I still remember holding my dads hand as he took his last breath. He inhaled and his exhale was so slow and long, and then he was gone. I remember crying out loud shouting 'dad dad'. I was a mess. I stayed with my dad in hospital for the two nights he was in there. I didn't leave his bedside day and night. When everyone left after visiting, it was just me and my dad. I slept leant over his bed whilst my body was on a chair, if you get what I mean. I loved that man so much and I still do. I remember when the policeman told me they'd found my son dead and I just kept saying'it can't be my son'. My hands trembling as i tried to find Damian in my phone. I remember Damian answering the phone and I told him his son was dead. Ive never seen Damian get to my house as fast as he did. I miss my baby boy so much, its killing me. Today I have all of this going around in my head. They call it PTSD. I just want to end my life, im so done with living. Im in so much pain me...