First year, I thought about it everyday.
I relived it, no matter what I did I couldn't get rid of it.
Did matter what I did, I couldn't get his death out of my head.
People told me it's part of God's plan, and that it had just began.
Maybe they were right, but it didn't stop me from wanting to tell them to get out of my sight.
Then time passed by, two to three years since I said my goodbye.
Maybe I even started to feel normal, I finally stopped writing about suicidal thoughts in my journal.
Maybe I started to believe that maybe his death wouldn't actually scar me, maybe for the rest of my life I could be free.
But then one day I think am truly free, something reminds me.
His favorite song, that was sang when he was gone.
It touches that nerve and I feel the pain, and it's the day I got that news all over again.
I couldn't take all the pain any more, I had no dad and nothing to live for.
