Guess this is my grief journal

Two months since your heart attack.
Two months since my world went upside down, along with the rest of society. Great timing dad.
Two months of tears. Some days it's just a trickle, some days I feel like I can't breathe.
Everything is a trigger. When someone kindly says let's heart attack another person--meant out of kindness throws me into tears. When I'm watching my new favorite comedy and the dad has a heart attack and survives it... another show the dad has a heart attack and passes. Can we just not have any more heart attacks or dads leaving the earth too soon?!
Gardening sucks, working on my house sucks, hearing my 3 year old say she misses papa and his calls and my 1 year old looking at old videos smiling his head off just sucks. At least we have those videos.
Without those videos the thoughts of you in the hospital come back to me all too fresh. You opening your eyes but not seeing me. Your hands swelling with each passing day. And worst of all the sound of your final breathes. Why couldn't you have just woken up?!!!
I remember calling the emergency room and they said you were responsive. That gave me hope. How I wish I would have begged to talk to you then, to tell you we were all speeding up to see you. To be with you. Only to find out you coded...twice. So the 11th to me is your first death day, the rest was limbo hell...and afterwards it's only been hell.
I miss your phone calls. I don't like talking to anyone else. I miss playing cards with you and telling dad it's your turn. I miss stealing your iPad from you and finishing the spider solitaire game. I miss you stealing my food off my plate and sneaking me a cookie.

I'm so lost. I'm like a zombie robot. Pretending to be happy around others and my kids while simultaneously just living.

I'm so mad I love you so much that it hurts so much. To think I have to live soo many years without you and your advice and antics is the worst. I need my daddy back. This isn't fair.

People try to be empathetic and I feel like I'm so rude. They don't get it. Ok, so you had a parent die from an illness that was expected... you were ripped away from me. They have faith in the LDS teachings, and send me quotes by apostles. You were good friends with apostles and even had a blessing about working on the temple...you should have retired. Where was the Holy Ghost in that blessing? Where was the prompting to say you should spend your last precious moments with your family rather than waking up early, working late, working weekends all for your dream job you can't even complete. If an apostle can't even get that prompting what good is my faith anymore? People ask, did you eat right and exercise? You did. Probably one too many cookies but otherwise nothing to worry about. Stupid doctors who told you you had a lung infection. Stubborn you for not going back. And I hate this but I hate being mad at mom to for not bugging you more. The worst thing is I can't even change anything. Nothing I say or do now will bring you back. Nothing.

I know I've repeated these thoughts before, I'm an endless broken record. I don't know how to process what happened. I don't know how to accept that your gone. I don't know how to have patience to wait to see you again when I die. Patience is not something you taught me to have.

Last night our final round of trivia crack ended officially. I kept it going because I miss you so much. I didn't mind losing to you.

Before this happened, Em had gymnastics, swim and dance. We even did preschool together every day. Now I'm lucky if we do one day of preschool during the week. I could re-register Em for dance and gymnastics but my motivation to do that is just gone. I'd rather just soak up all our time together just playing. Thank goodness for work at home with ty. I