I am mostly alright. I am normal and am going about my life in the usual sense. I laugh, I live, I love I learn etc etc.
But I am not okay. I am at the tipping edge a lot. The slightest memory of Brutus makes me flush. I can't open emails my dad has sent with his photographs because I know I'm going to spiral down and cry. I dream about him a lot. That he's alive and all of this is a silly mistake. Then I wake up and realise that I am never going to see him again and the only place he lives now is dreams like these. I regret waking up. I am cruel to myself.
But I am okay. When I first smiled and laughed after his death a mere two days after the news, I felt aghast at myself, a traitor to his memory. But this grief is new to me and it's not a long sustained sobfest. I now realise that grief is a longer term feeling atop everything else in normal life and living. I suppose with time it will slowly lessen.
I am okay. That is the best part, I suppose. Who would want to wallow in sorrow every moment? I also remember him vividly with all the best of me. That is also a good thing.