When I sleep, I dream

My first dream I had about my dad... we were at his memorial service. People were saying bad things about him. I screamed, "If you can't say anything nice about my dad, then just shut up!" I got up and started to run to the front of the sanctuary because there was an exit up there. I fell on the floor and started crying. Then I saw my dad. Healthy. Whole. He sat down on the floor beside me and just held my hand. No one else could see him. Then I woke up. Crying. Sleep doesn't come easy these days. When I sleep, I dream. And they're not always good.

It feels like there's a hole inside me. I just wonder, will the hole ever go away? Or at least get smaller? Honestly, I don't see an end to this pain. I don't understand why God took my dad. Yeah, we aren't meant to understand God's ways. I get that. But seriously, like... WTF?! That's all I can think of to say.

Today was the first Sunday at church since dad passed. Like... no offense to anyone, but it was wierd being at my dad's church... seeing another man stand behind my dad's pulpit, and this time... it's permanent. I may be wrong for feeling this way, but that will ALWAYS be my dad's pulpit. Honestly, I'm not sure if I can watch another man stand in a spot where my father belongs. I KNOW other people feel this way... maybe they don't want to say it. But I am. Am I sorry? Nope.