Yo, where the fuck is the silver lining?

I wrote earlier about the silver lining: the fact that my dad and I have grown closer since he was diagnosed with cancer. While it made me sad that it took cancer to make us put past conflicts aside, it also kept me going, kept me breathing, compelled me to get out of bed in the morning when that was the last thing I wanted to do. The desire to make my dad proud while he is alive and can be, has forced me to do everything I can do and be everything I can be, both for him and for myself. 

But now, my father doesn't speak much, and I am feeling strains on a relationship that had previously been growing stronger. When I call home and speak to him, and he doesn't even answer me, or when he sits there and stares at me silently, I feel as though we no longer understand each other, or are no longer trying to. It's too much. We're on different planes. Maybe we're forcing something that isn't there. But even if I imagined it before, the newfound closeness felt beautiful and real, and it was keeping me going. I was grateful that something good came out of this ordeal. What now? 

Everyone says life goes on, but does it? What is life without my dad, living physically but not really living? What is life without my friends here? I know, I know. Really, I know (this is for you, Katie, if I show this one to you)! The answer is inside of myself. 

I am supposed to love myself, to be comfortable with who I am, the good, the bad, the medium. Thing is, I love everyone else so much, I forget about loving myself. And that never seems to matter when everyone is here, because the companionship of people I love almost never fails to fulfill me. Even if it does not cancel out the sadness, it gives me a reason to keep on living. The struggle will be much harder alone. 

But- deep breath- I'll survive.