I dislike February...
I haven't always. The second month of the year held no special meaning for me whatsoever. It was a countdown towards Spring; the last full month of potentially crazy winter weather; a month of chocolate hearts and valentines. It was a month like all the others - until three years ago. February 15, 2012, my father died. It was unexpected; and though I'd spoken to him on the phone just days earlier, I hadn't seen him in over a year.
I was Daddy's girl; still am, I suppose. Every day I miss him, though thankfully the sharp, stabbing pain through my heart has eased into a dull, throbbing ache, lingering on the fringes of my soul most of the year.
Though it's not through conscious thought, my mood begins to change around the first of February. Always a vivid dreamer, I am tormented in sleep by images of death and torture; I am chased by unseen pursuers; I am prone to violence, defending myself against those who wish me harm. By day, I am moody and unable to focus. I drift from task to task, not sure how or if I will accomplish anything. I know that it's my subconscious dealing with the loss, but I wish I knew how to make it stop.
I love my Dad; I always will. Tears roll down my face as I type this. I don't cry for him often, but occasionally a moment will occur when I think, "I need to tell Dad about that" or I see a news item about something we would have discussed. It hurts, but usually just for a few minutes, then it recedes back into a general kind of melancholy. Except this month.
So if I seem a bit off, I apologize. I seem to be doing a lot of that lately, mostly to myself. I hope that with time, the dreams will stop, the lethargy will turn into something useful, and I'll feel like a normal human being again.
How many days until March?