Everything is broken at the moment.

My memory is shot, I have to keep making lists of things I need to do but then I keep losing the lists. It took me five minutes to get a yogurt for breakfast this morning - I got it from the fridge and went into the living room, then back for a spoon, then back again because I'd taken the yogurt back into the kitchen with me and then forgotten to pick it up again.

I can't listen to music, most of my music is stuff my dad listened to or stuff that sounds like it - so most of it makes me cry. I was doing fine at work listening to Sting but when the CD changed to James Taylor I had to go hide in Goods In so my sobs wouldn't scare the customers.

I forget for about five minutes at a time maybe, then I remember that the world has completely changed and the bottom drops out of my stomach. I see a book or hear someone say something and think "I must remember to..." and then stop and try to breathe through a throat that's just closed up.

I've been trying to write on here since Saturday night when we got back but every time I've tried nothing has come out. I keep thinking of blog posts in the middle of the night but I'm aware if I get up to write it then it will be gone and I can't get the words down on paper fast enough to get it all out before it goes again. I keep thinking that I have to get my thoughts about his funeral down on here because it was so long ago now, and then I remember it was only last Thursday.

I can't begin to think how this is for mum and Emily, mum being in an empty house and Emily being so young and already "half an orphan". I start to feel bad because it's got to be much worse for them and then feeling guilty for the way I feel and then Anthony will tell me that I am allowed to feel like this.

(and now I feel guilty cos I just opened the door to the milkman and had to explain why I was crying and why I've been away so much and he was just so lovely)

When I had the miscarriages and when Andy left I felt terrible, the worst I'd ever felt, but I knew everything would be ok in the end because my dad said it would be. But now he's not there to tell me everything will be ok and I can't believe anyone else.

I know this will pass, I know that one day I will not automatically think of phoning him when Orient aren't unlucky or when Alonso crashes through a fit of pique. I know this MUST be true - I just wish it didn't have to be.

I'm so glad they came to visit in August, that we went out for dinner and talked about old holidays and silly family jokes, and that when mum said something hurtful to me dad just rolled his eyes at her and made me feel better. That although I wasn't there when he died my last memories are of him smiling and joking and being absolutely himself.

He was the person that knew me best. We are so very alike. He made me who I am. At least I don't have to be scared of losing him anymore, since I've already lost him.

Now my terror takes the form of the next phone call being bad news about Emily or Anthony or mum. I'm not sleeping at night because I'm not tired, but I'm yawning all day. I'm either starving hungry or feeling sick so eating is a gamble, by the time I've cooked something I feel sick again.

Everything is broken and I don't even know how to start fixing it.