I'll just jump right in.
Sometimes i wonder if i should just relinquensh the hope of life ever being normal.
Was it ever really 'normal' to begin with?
Even before Dad died it was chaos. I hate the thought of that whole thing. But now that I've brought it up I have to write it out.
It seems like he's really been gone for a much longer time. I was on this road trip with a gfriend a few years ago. We saw some excruciatingly beautiful sites. But there was this constant homesickness feeling in the pit of my stomach. I wanted my dad to be there. And too I wanted to run home to dad and tell him all about the cool stuff I'd seen and gotten to do. It was almost pallatable the day we went to Alcatrz Island. We just happened to be there Homecomming Day when former guards and inmates come back to tell stories and autograph books, etc. I couldn't BELIEVE how freakingly cool it was that I got to go there and happen to be there for that day. I wanted him to be there so badly.
Dad died this spring.
Dad is dead. Gone.
The vessel that was once full of ideas and dreams and creativity got emptied. It's all gone. And the vessel that used to cary me on his shoulders, hold my hand through a crowd, pick me up when I was tuckered out, help me with a new art project, build a paper mache volcanoe for school, and horse costume for a party--it's all over with.
Those hands. I was amazed that somebody could have hands that big. I had to just hang on to one finger at a time.
We always had a plan for if I couldn't hold on and got lost.
My voice cracks when I say that it was actually a relief. When I got the call that there had been an incident at work and he'd been helicopperd to the hospital I have to admit I said a tiny little prayer that he would be relieved of his painful existance.
And ever since it's been months of analyzing. thinking about the kind of legacy I would leave behind. would it be one of relief? would those I love sigh and finally relax?
I don't want that. I want there to be a hole where growth and happiness had once been. I want it to have been filled with living, with beauty, health, expression, trueness. I want my life to be painfully beautiful. And badly misspelled. :)
I was in the passenger's seat recently as Bonn & I passed this old man that looked like my dad. He was all grey. Walking back from the grocery store. I'm glad it wasn't really him. Full of bitterness. Anger. He's calm now. There was so much hopelessness in his life at the end.
But still I was sick, when I realized it wasn't Dad.
Sometimes there's a split second where I wake up from a dream where I thought my dad was there. Or I've seen a guy's silouete in the doorway that looks like him. I feel sick in my throat. I want to yelp when the reality hits.
We came back from hiking recently and I couldn't wait to get home and tell dad all about it. See what he'd been up to while we were out. Your stomach just lurches and you move on.
I hope that the thought of the New System will start to be automatic. I still have to walk myself through the reality of the ressurection every time. And that when it comes Dad will be perfect and whole. I'll get to say how sorry I am and he'll be able to show me all of the cool new stuff he can do. What he's been perfecting lately. Growing younger. More compassionate. More in harmony. His brain synapses will be perfectly firing. I'll get to understand. He'll show me how to not get lost any more. Current Mood: contemplative