It’s the minutiae of things that have to be done after someone dies that boggles my mind.

It’s as if I have an ever-growing list of things I must get done.

And I just want them all to be over, so that I don’t have to keep being reminded all the time my dad is gone.

Because I wouldn’t be doing them if he were here. So I know he’s gone, I’m reminded he’s gone, over and over.

It chips away at me. It wears me down. It reminds me that I’m alone now.

And I just want all the minutiae to be done. To not be reminded that I’m alone.