my father is dead. 3 months today. 3 months from 7am california time, 4.15.08.
my mother is miserable. she tortures herself with countdowns. every day has poetic & painful significance. if i operated like her, my thoughts would run to the demented: this is the day he died. yesterday was the day his breathing changed. 2 days ago i told him we have no unfinished business. 5 days ago i got to san francisco. 7 days ago he said he was done with this life. 6 days ago he took it back. 4 days ago he said he was done, again. 2 days ago he wanted us to kill him. 7 days ago he managed to say "sweetheart". 3 days ago i started sleeping at the hospital. 3 hours ago i held his hand and didn't let go. 10 minutes ago i rested my head on his leg until his breathing stopped. 3 hours from now my mother will finally let them take his body out of the room. 2 days from now is his funeral. 250 people will be there.
counting. counting. counting. this is insanity waiting to happen. will every month for the next year, next 2 years, be like this for her? is it going to be like this indefinitely?
i am not like my mother. i can't sink into the obsessive minute-to-minute quagmire of memories that my mother does. it would literally crush me. dad was her husband. the counting is her coping mechanism. not mine.
to be clear. i am not in denial. not the slightest. i know my father is now dead. i know we went through hell together. i know i will never speak to him again. i will never hold his hand again. i will never be able to share my life with him again. i know. knowing & actualizing are 2 different things.
i've compartmentalized. i simply refuse to deal with his death. i can't. i'm not ready. i am my own psych experiment in coping.
first i need to go far, far away. from everything. soon i'm away. away. from everything.
i'm giving myself one more month. to not feel. when i come back, i'll unpack my emotions. i'll let the feelings come.
