Dad is gone too

 I dread nights like these. 

Woke up from a dream of my mom retching, mixture of phlegm and blood spew out from her throat onto the sofa. 

My mind has mixed up the illness of my late father with my late mother's. But either way one of them was always sickly or dying in my dreams. It has never failed to strike fear into my sleeping mind. 

Wide awake, I looked at the time: 3:59am 

I'm used to receiving little compassion by now. I have heard some pretty insensitive and nasty remarks on the dying days of my father. I have come to accept that people can be pretty mean when it doesn't concern them, and worse when things do affect them. I have acknowledged and apologised to people who angrily sprouted words like "has your father died yet?" 

I have built such a wall of tolerance that can only come with tragic life experiences such as my own. Yes I am using the word "tragic" because I am still traumatised and haunted by the memories of their final days even after all these years. It'll be 5 years soon since mom. 

2.5 months since dad. 

I guess I came on here because I got tired from crying on nights like these. 

I miss you, dad.