Dad
It's weird... I'm not sad about it anymore.
I'm not saying it's ok, or that I'm happy, or that I'm perfectly fine with his not being here...
But his dying is what I was sad about. Dying is awful, death isn't.
It's weird... I'm not saying I understand it all... I understand nothing more than I did before, but I see it more... as I lie in bed at night, I just talk mentally to the air, and I address him. Still have no clue if it's meaningful at all, but if it's not... then what is lost? If he's gone, if the last physical trace of him is the pile of ash in a box, then what would it matter anyways? I'm at most 80 years from the same fate.
But if he's there... then there's something else. I talk to him in the same way I would ask him about other things he's done before me. High school, going to college, his jobs, etc... the whole dying thing was just another event that he passed through before me. I can't know what he is now, if he's still there, but I can talk to him... just sit there and say "Well what's it like?"
Nothing comes back, and I eventually just go to sleep, but I still do it because, like I said... if he's there, then I want to find him, but if he's not... then it doesn't matter anyways.
But it's weird to have this feeling. I miss him, but I'm not sad that he's gone. I'm sad that he had to die, but now... we knew he would be gone by now while I was coming home... what difference would it have made? And if not by now, then within 30 years, he'd be gone... and what difference would it have made? and if when I'm 90, he'll be gone, and myself close behind... and what difference would it have made? It sounds like I'm bemoaning it, but I'm not. And no it's not a grand, universe-solving revelation. Wouldn't even classify it as that... but it's February, and as I came home on November 3rd, we didn't think he'd make it much past Christmas.... this is what I was ready for... now. So it seems ok, because we expected it now.
Weird.
I'm not saying it's ok, or that I'm happy, or that I'm perfectly fine with his not being here...
But his dying is what I was sad about. Dying is awful, death isn't.
It's weird... I'm not saying I understand it all... I understand nothing more than I did before, but I see it more... as I lie in bed at night, I just talk mentally to the air, and I address him. Still have no clue if it's meaningful at all, but if it's not... then what is lost? If he's gone, if the last physical trace of him is the pile of ash in a box, then what would it matter anyways? I'm at most 80 years from the same fate.
But if he's there... then there's something else. I talk to him in the same way I would ask him about other things he's done before me. High school, going to college, his jobs, etc... the whole dying thing was just another event that he passed through before me. I can't know what he is now, if he's still there, but I can talk to him... just sit there and say "Well what's it like?"
Nothing comes back, and I eventually just go to sleep, but I still do it because, like I said... if he's there, then I want to find him, but if he's not... then it doesn't matter anyways.
But it's weird to have this feeling. I miss him, but I'm not sad that he's gone. I'm sad that he had to die, but now... we knew he would be gone by now while I was coming home... what difference would it have made? And if not by now, then within 30 years, he'd be gone... and what difference would it have made? and if when I'm 90, he'll be gone, and myself close behind... and what difference would it have made? It sounds like I'm bemoaning it, but I'm not. And no it's not a grand, universe-solving revelation. Wouldn't even classify it as that... but it's February, and as I came home on November 3rd, we didn't think he'd make it much past Christmas.... this is what I was ready for... now. So it seems ok, because we expected it now.
Weird.
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