Unfinished
The guilt of being the daughter who loves her dad but breathes easier when she is far away. And one day, the father passed away… This is my story. And.. People around him says, how bad of a daughter you are. That is also the continuation part of my story. photograph by me When he was alive, I couldn't speak of what I feel because I will always be wrong. And when he is gone, I still couldn't speak what I feel because it feels wrong. I want to grief him like how other daughters grief their dad. But I couldnt. Every feelings layered, tangles, and out of place. People always blame on one thing when someone died. But I couldn't find even just one thing to blame to. People can accept that he sick, I have done my best. I let it go. I make peace. But when I try, it goes to everywhere. His pain, my pain. His words, my words. His actions, my actions. His trauma, my trauma. I couldn't grief like how people usually grief. I cant accept like how others accept. I couldn't see ...
