Moving on is hard to do.

While this blog is intended mostly for my books and writing, I’d like to take a step back and express the emotional hardship that I am enduring. 

My father unexpectedly passed away May 19th, 2014. He was 56 years young. 

I find myself still struggling and I don’t expect to get any better any time soon. One of the last things I told him about was my completion of BTC and how excited I was to move along with editing it. My parents always knew that I “should have been a writer” and it’s never a surprise anymore when I tell them I’ve completed some kind of work. In my early years, I would always conjure up some poem or short story and force them to listen as I read. I sought/craved their recognition that I had a talent and that I was actually good for something

This was something new, though. I am going to publish it and I wanted to make him proud. I want to make him proud. Even if this book is complete crap, I will have accomplished the act of putting it out there and exposing my heart and soul while I’m wincing behind my tired knuckles. 

Once my dad passed, motivation for a lot of things were lacking. I didn’t want to go through with it without him here and a part of me still doesn’t. A part of my heart is gone. How am I supposed to do this without one of my biggest supporters? Why did I wait so long to make meaning of any of it? Why couldn’t I have just accomplished one fantastic goal just so I could see that priceless, loving expression on his face? 

I feel like he left this realm before I could do so. I also feel like my free spirit slowed me down. I haven’t graduated college, I haven’t married and bought a house, I haven’t even given him my version of a grandchild. Yet, here I am, (somewhat) starving artist, pouring all my passion through the written word because it’s what I’m good at. That’s what I do. That’s the fantastic thing, though. I have, so far, lived my life exactly how my parents taught me; to not live within anyone’s expectations but your own. To make the most of your life the way you want to. 

But Daddy. Is not here. To see any of it. 

I come to you, ladies and gentlemen, in the wee hours of the morning because I cannot shut out these thoughts. I cannot stop these silly tears because I utterly and wholeheartedly miss my daddy.

Father’s Day photo montage

Published by

Erika Damn Castle!

I've always been told that I'm an adventurous girl and I cannot deny any of it. I would love to see the world and experience all of the stories it has to tell me. I am a child of the arts, developing my senses in music, painting, sketching, crafting, et cetera. But writing... it was a talent I believe I was born with. I'm not saying I'm an amazing (grammatically correct) author, just that I'm a natural storyteller. I can remember from the time that I learned how to read and write, I was eager to create my own world. I would scribble out tons of poems and short stories, then forcibly share them with my family (or even with my classmates). One of those stories resulted in the creation of this blog. Black Tears. As a child with an already wild imagination, I would always have these equally crazy dreams. One of those dreams was so vivid, that I awoke in the middle of the night and jotted down everything I could remember. From that point, the dream evolved into a poem, then a short story, and then to a complete story. It is the fruit of my 20 year procrastinating labor, and has been published into a book (the first of its series). Tune in to stay updated on the growth of myself as an author and the series. I hope you enjoy it as much as I have loved creating it! XX , Erika

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