the next few days

I wasn’t brave enough to go downstairs ever since I got home. Just now I was eating spaghetti but I needed to heat it up so my mom told me to go downstairs myself and do it. I think I was dreading this deep down inside but I just went anyway. As soon as I got to the kitchen, I was already in tears. Something about expecting to see my dad there, sitting by the kitchen table, reading newspapers, seeing nothing but emptiness filling the room instead hit me hard. I couldn’t help but mentally picture him in there. How can you feel the presence of a person knowing clearly that he/she is not there? I tried to dry my tears quickly as soon as I heard someone walking down the stairs. I went to my room instead and cried. I didn’t cry for long, I knew I had to go back to my mom’s room to eat. When I walked in the room I was trying to look normal, wanting my mom to spot that I had been crying at the same time. I think her mother instinct picked up something from me, but she didn’t say anything. How long will this last? I don’t know how I will ever get used to this. I can’t even stay in my room, all I start to think is how my dad is not home, and will never be home for long.