On the night after my Dad died, I ran away into the city - I wanted to lose myself within the metropolis of people, because I felt like I had lost something inside of me... on the night after my Dad died, I walked the illuminated city streets not knowing where I was going to go, nor who I was going to meet... on the night after my Dad died, I felt more alone than I had ever felt in my life... on the night after my Dad died, I wanted to scream, I wanted to shout, I wanted to cry - but, in all honesty, I could not control my emotions so instead I felt numb but as if I were walking around with a gaping wound in my chest that exposed my bleeding heart that felt like it had been repeatedly stabbed by a knife. On the night after my Dad died, I unexpectedly met some new friends who all already knew one another and who had gathered together to share a Christmas drink - and though I had never met any of them before I knew that there was something to my meeting them that seemed like someone or something wanted me to form a brand new link... on the night after my Dad died, I remember being angry at whomever or whatever had taken my Dad away from me... on the night after my Dad died, I could not believe what had happened, what I had seen - and even now, and always, I will never be able to comprehend this nightmarish new reality I am living in that I wish was just a bad dream. On the night after my Dad died - after spending most of the night talking, connecting, and intoxicated, with my new friends - I said goodbye, and then, after I somehow made my way home, I reflected upon what had happened through a mirrored torrent of tears, and I wondered what was going to happen next and who I now was - and though no clear answers came to me, I knew that my world, as I knew it, had come to an end. My Dad is always with me - I feel him around me, within me, like the glow and the feeling of some kind of perpetual spirit and light that I know is my Dad speaking to me, reaching out to me, guiding me, giving me the gift of his unending love that will always mean everything to me. -Mark Hastings 22/12/22 In memory of my Dad, David William George Hastings 6/1/1949 - 8/12/2022

This heartfelt expression of loss and the journey through grief is deeply moving. Your words paint a poignant picture of that night, the mix of emotions, and the lasting impact of your father’s presence. I’m truly sorry for your loss, Mark.
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