I'm too depressed to think of a title

My father died on June 16th. I don't really know what to say. This isnt because Im numb. I got past that. Now I just have so many things going through my mind that I dont know where to start. I just cant believe he's gone. I keep replaying the moment of his death over and over in my mind until I'm convinced that if I could go back to that moment I could stop it from happening. Its so clear. I was shaking uncontrollably as I ran my fingers through his hair. I kept telling him that I love him, and I told him to tell mommy and grandma 'hi' for me when he got to Heaven. Then his eyes stopped moving around and I looked up at the doctor and the nurse. They looked at me with practiced sympathy. "Sorry for your loss" they said. And I accepted it. That's where I went wrong. Even though I can't accept it now, at that point, I did. I hated the idea that he was gone, but I believed them. I cried and cried, but I didn't argue. I suppose that freaking out and calling them liars and throwing myself onto my dad's chest and yelling at him not to go wouldnt really have changed anything, but how do I really know that it wouldnt?

He never knew how much I loved him. He never knew what I really though of him. I thought he was a genius. I thought he was adorable. I thought he was a great parent. He knew everything. He was so talented. He was accepting. He was tolerant. He was tough. He was confident.

He also never knew that for the last few years, I thought about him alot. I couldnt leave without worrying about whether he would be OK. He never knew that I freaked out whenever he didnt answer the phone, even if I knew he was probably just having coffee at the cafe. He never knew that if I was comming home from Watertown and I saw an ambulance, I would call him to make sure that it wasnt him in it.

He probably thought that I didnt care about him at all. For me, it was just like when my grandma got sick. I didnt like to visit her because I couldnt handle seeing her like that. I wanted to remember her, and now him, as they were before. When they could walk, talk, laugh, and enjoy life.

I keep dreaming about him almost every night. Nothing specail really, just that he is still alive. In the dreams, I always wonder why he isn't gone, but I never asked him. Not until the last dream that I had. It was a few nights ago. I asked him why he was here even though I had seen him pass away. He told me that he had died, but that he asked if he could come back to see his two daughters. (Crystal, my best friend, was like a daughter to him, and she and I were both with him when he died) That dream gives me goosebumps.

I dont know what else to say except that I am hurting.