I think the title says it all. I lost my dad on 1st October 2022, he was on holiday, I had to fly out the same day to bring him home. I lived with my dad for a while when I was growing up, we shared bunk beds in my nans spare room, we were together every minute I wasn't at school. Of course I got older and we spent less time together, but he will always be my first love, he appeared unbeatable. This was his 3rd battle with cancer, I wasn't alive for thr first 2, 4 heart attacks, I just thought he'd beat it again, nothing could stop him. But it did. I still feel angry, like he gave up, like he should have fought harder to stay, I still needed him so why would he leave. My little boy had just turned 1, that wasn't enough time, how dare he leave so soon. And how do I face a life without him? I'm not necessarily a believer, so to me, for all I know he could be gone forever and I'll never see him again. I've often wondered what the point in life is, to live, love then lose or die, why start to begin with? Especially if there is nothing after, you wouldn't know if you didn't exist in the first place. But now, the only reason I stay is my son, I couldn't leave him, but then sometimes I think he's so young he could move on and be fine in a short space of time. I can't think about my dad too often, it hurts too much, it just causes anger and pain, and I can't get through work and bringing up a child in that state, but when I do allow myself to think, I feel sick, like I can't breathe, a hole in my chest and I just want to ask him why.