The Goddess Hath Spoken
To those who offered their sympathies and condolences, I give you my thanks for your help small as it may be through this last week. It has been hard at times to say the right words or find any words at all to give my feelings a voice. To fully articulate what it is that I'm feeling and why because I want people to understand. If anything, I've created this site as I created others before it, to help those who may be going through the same thing just to let them know that it's going to be ok and that there are people out there who know how you feel.
I realize that in the last two posts to this site, I never once wrote the words, "My Father is dead." Strange, but true. It's partly due to the fact that, even now, I don't want to believe it. I want to cling to some fantasy that it's all a big mix up and that he's going to show up and this whole nightmare is going to just go away. But, it's not. It never will. This is the new reality I'm living in. I didn't want to write those words because it would give credence to that reality and I just wasn't ready to live there yet. But now the funeral is over and life has to go on. That's what I've told other people and now that's what I have to do.
The visitation was, in a word, amazing. Four hours standing in the recieving line listening to hundreds (yes, hundreds, plural) tell me what a great, wonderful, caring, loving person he is. At first, I couldn't help but wonder, "Are they talking about my dad?" To say he was distant, would be an understatement. And it wasn't just to me, it was towards most of his family. I think it's just some kind of ingrained thing in our little clan that you pretty much take your relatives for granted, including children, siblings and parents. It creates this kind of barrier where sometimes you don't really know what's going on in each other's lives. I could tell you how I went literally a full year between hearing anything from my father. No calls, no stops by the house, nothing. Right around my birthday, I'd get a call and we would set up a time for us to exchange gifts before he went home from work someday in the future. That would be it until the next year. But, the last two years, I think I heard from him and saw him more often than since I was at his house every other weekend growing up. I slowly got back in touch with him with a new level of understanding where we could talk to each other as adults. It was oddly refreshing and at the same time sad, because there was so much wasted time behind us. What I learned at the visitation was how loved he was by his neighbors, friends, co-workers, and fellow church members and how profound a loss they felt by his sudden and tragic death. How sorry they felt for us to lose such a wonderful person and how their prayers were with us. I held my shit together because everyone else was holding their shit together and I was not going to be the first one to start turning into a puddle of goo on the floor. It was also an odd event, something akin to seeing the planets align themselves. All three of my fathers wives were present, in the same room. I can only say that this happened, though I have no proof other than witnesses. No pictures of the event were taken since all three of them never came together. In fact, my mom went out of her way to not say anything to Vickie (the current wife). But, she also surprised me when she told me that she wasn't going to go up to see the body because, and I quote, "I want to remember him the way he was when I last saw him." I will however admit to how I almost lost my shit when, while standing in the recieving line, an elderly woman who was a member of the church's congregation was coming through the line and spoke to all three of us (my brother, my sister and myself) and when she got to me, she looked up, smiled and with a small, gentle voice said, "You have your father's eyes." She said it as if to mean more than just similar eye color. I blinked a few times and thanked her before she moved on. It was a good night for the most part. Stories were shared and old relations were revived. I got to see a cousin I hadn't seen in years which was a good thing too, because if I'd met him on the street, I'd have SO hit on him because he looked nothing like the blonde geek I remember from growing up. The visitation lasted an hour past the scheduled time due to the large number of people that just kept coming and coming.
The next day was something entirely different. We got up early and went up to the funeral early, so we could get a jump on the agenda and prepare ourselves for the day. Knowing now what I knew then, I wouldn't have bothered. About twenty minutes before the services stared, the pastor came to us and told us there would be a private family prayer before we started and one last viewing before the casket was closed. I just nodded and went on, hoping it would all be over soon. Not the service, but the constant numb feeling that had plagued me since Monday morning. I honestly haven't felt much of anything the past few days and it's felt like I'm a computer trying to process so much information at once, it's taking longer than usual to do certain tasks. When we got to the back room with the casket, we stood there for a few minutes, waiting for a few people before we started. I looked over and saw my aunt Marilyn walk in and the pastor coming up to her, whispering about the last viewing. The entire night beforehand, she had been a pillar, totally unwavering and smiling and offering condolences to me and my brother and sister. I guess she had kind of put her own feelings on hold for everyone else (not unlike some people I know) and when the pastor told her that, she took one step towards the casket and I watched her as her face seemed to crumble and time stood still at that instant. In a flash, I was seeing through her eyes. How those words, "last viewing" had taken on a life of their own. It was saying to her how it was the last time she would ever see her little brother and never again. Never. The thought of an actual "never" was almost crippling and at that moment, when she touched the side of the casket and looked down at him, she momentarilly lost her shit. In the process of watching that play out, I totally lost my shit.
Jason, I'm sorry man, but I totally lied. And I didn't realize I was lying until that moment. I suddenly realized I was never going to see his mischievous smile ever again or hear his voice and his laugh. How empty it felt to know that there would be things that would happen to me in the future. Good things that will happen that he won't get to find out about and share with his friends. How lonely it suddenly felt without his presence. How empty my heart felt because someone I loved was taken from me, not by disease or time, but by some twist of fate that none of us could have ever hoped to prepare ourselves for. The impact of the loss hit me full force right then and there, and I had to use every trick I knew to keep my shit together because I will never cry in public. I refuse. In the wee hours of the morning when no one else is around, that's fine. In a crowded bar when I'm going out of my way to be ignored, that's acceptable to a degree as well, but I will not cry when I'm standing in a circle of people. It's a deal breaker and I won't do it. So, there I stood, with my head to the floor, desperately clinging to the ragged remains of what was my shit through the entire service. I couldn't look up because I knew if I did, it would start all over again. I'd been feeling like a shell shock victim all week long because I just couldn't find all the emotions and all the words to express myself. Suddenly, I had too much and I was close to overload. But, eventually, I managed to get through it. We took the casket and put it in the herse for the short trip to the funeral home. A few hours after that, he would be cremated and that would be the real end of the entire episode. We stayed for lunch and talked about unimportant things. I managed to take a few pictures and maybe soon, I'll put them up here somewhere for everyone to see.
My brother and I got back to the house and he got ready to leave to go back to Arkansas. I got ready to go take the camera back to my uncle before going downtown for a few drinks, because if you think I was going back home to the madness there, YOU ARE HIGHER THAN A KITE. Besides, I had to get away because I just needed time alone to put everything in perspective. I had to turn to my faith because, in the end, that was the only thing that was going to get me through this hell I found myself in. Last night after I got home, I sat down in the basement, staring at the computer and I slowly got it all back into perpective.
Sometimes, things happen for reasons we can't hope to see or fully understand. Sometimes opportunities are found in the worse of circumstances. And, yes, the shiniest gems are found in the darkest caves. It never helps to sit and just try to find all the answers. Sometimes the answers aren't for us and they were never meant to be. It's ok to hurt. And it's ok to be angry. It's ok to laugh out loud at a funeral or a visitation. It's an affirmation of life. It's how we know that things are going to go on no matter what. A man died, but that doesn't mean we all die. We just have to hold onto what we have left around us because the next time could be sooner than we think. I miss him and I'm always going to miss him, just like I miss all the other people who have stepped on into another life somewhere beyond my limited sight. Someday, it's going to make more sense. Right now, just concentrate on what you have left and the memories you do have. Enjoy them, cherish them and keep on going because you're life still has many moments left. And, you know what? It's ok that I think about the money. I know, because, if he were hear right now, he'd be telling me that this is something that's going to help me get my life back in order and get out from everyone elses shadow. To live my life to my best, no matter where that may take me.
The last thing Vickie said to me before I left Thursday was that he loved me. And, I told her, "I know. It was the last thing he said to me before he left. And it's the last thing I told him too." So, there, I did it again. I ended a relationship with someone on a good note again. I can let him go, because I know that all that needed to be said was said between us. no regrets, no goodbyes.
The curious epilogue to this tale came this evening before going to work. Mom came home and she was coming up the stairs. She paused for a moment and started to cry. She didn't know why, but I do. Too many regrets. Too many missed chances. She will just have to deal with that in time.
I realize that in the last two posts to this site, I never once wrote the words, "My Father is dead." Strange, but true. It's partly due to the fact that, even now, I don't want to believe it. I want to cling to some fantasy that it's all a big mix up and that he's going to show up and this whole nightmare is going to just go away. But, it's not. It never will. This is the new reality I'm living in. I didn't want to write those words because it would give credence to that reality and I just wasn't ready to live there yet. But now the funeral is over and life has to go on. That's what I've told other people and now that's what I have to do.
The visitation was, in a word, amazing. Four hours standing in the recieving line listening to hundreds (yes, hundreds, plural) tell me what a great, wonderful, caring, loving person he is. At first, I couldn't help but wonder, "Are they talking about my dad?" To say he was distant, would be an understatement. And it wasn't just to me, it was towards most of his family. I think it's just some kind of ingrained thing in our little clan that you pretty much take your relatives for granted, including children, siblings and parents. It creates this kind of barrier where sometimes you don't really know what's going on in each other's lives. I could tell you how I went literally a full year between hearing anything from my father. No calls, no stops by the house, nothing. Right around my birthday, I'd get a call and we would set up a time for us to exchange gifts before he went home from work someday in the future. That would be it until the next year. But, the last two years, I think I heard from him and saw him more often than since I was at his house every other weekend growing up. I slowly got back in touch with him with a new level of understanding where we could talk to each other as adults. It was oddly refreshing and at the same time sad, because there was so much wasted time behind us. What I learned at the visitation was how loved he was by his neighbors, friends, co-workers, and fellow church members and how profound a loss they felt by his sudden and tragic death. How sorry they felt for us to lose such a wonderful person and how their prayers were with us. I held my shit together because everyone else was holding their shit together and I was not going to be the first one to start turning into a puddle of goo on the floor. It was also an odd event, something akin to seeing the planets align themselves. All three of my fathers wives were present, in the same room. I can only say that this happened, though I have no proof other than witnesses. No pictures of the event were taken since all three of them never came together. In fact, my mom went out of her way to not say anything to Vickie (the current wife). But, she also surprised me when she told me that she wasn't going to go up to see the body because, and I quote, "I want to remember him the way he was when I last saw him." I will however admit to how I almost lost my shit when, while standing in the recieving line, an elderly woman who was a member of the church's congregation was coming through the line and spoke to all three of us (my brother, my sister and myself) and when she got to me, she looked up, smiled and with a small, gentle voice said, "You have your father's eyes." She said it as if to mean more than just similar eye color. I blinked a few times and thanked her before she moved on. It was a good night for the most part. Stories were shared and old relations were revived. I got to see a cousin I hadn't seen in years which was a good thing too, because if I'd met him on the street, I'd have SO hit on him because he looked nothing like the blonde geek I remember from growing up. The visitation lasted an hour past the scheduled time due to the large number of people that just kept coming and coming.
The next day was something entirely different. We got up early and went up to the funeral early, so we could get a jump on the agenda and prepare ourselves for the day. Knowing now what I knew then, I wouldn't have bothered. About twenty minutes before the services stared, the pastor came to us and told us there would be a private family prayer before we started and one last viewing before the casket was closed. I just nodded and went on, hoping it would all be over soon. Not the service, but the constant numb feeling that had plagued me since Monday morning. I honestly haven't felt much of anything the past few days and it's felt like I'm a computer trying to process so much information at once, it's taking longer than usual to do certain tasks. When we got to the back room with the casket, we stood there for a few minutes, waiting for a few people before we started. I looked over and saw my aunt Marilyn walk in and the pastor coming up to her, whispering about the last viewing. The entire night beforehand, she had been a pillar, totally unwavering and smiling and offering condolences to me and my brother and sister. I guess she had kind of put her own feelings on hold for everyone else (not unlike some people I know) and when the pastor told her that, she took one step towards the casket and I watched her as her face seemed to crumble and time stood still at that instant. In a flash, I was seeing through her eyes. How those words, "last viewing" had taken on a life of their own. It was saying to her how it was the last time she would ever see her little brother and never again. Never. The thought of an actual "never" was almost crippling and at that moment, when she touched the side of the casket and looked down at him, she momentarilly lost her shit. In the process of watching that play out, I totally lost my shit.
Jason, I'm sorry man, but I totally lied. And I didn't realize I was lying until that moment. I suddenly realized I was never going to see his mischievous smile ever again or hear his voice and his laugh. How empty it felt to know that there would be things that would happen to me in the future. Good things that will happen that he won't get to find out about and share with his friends. How lonely it suddenly felt without his presence. How empty my heart felt because someone I loved was taken from me, not by disease or time, but by some twist of fate that none of us could have ever hoped to prepare ourselves for. The impact of the loss hit me full force right then and there, and I had to use every trick I knew to keep my shit together because I will never cry in public. I refuse. In the wee hours of the morning when no one else is around, that's fine. In a crowded bar when I'm going out of my way to be ignored, that's acceptable to a degree as well, but I will not cry when I'm standing in a circle of people. It's a deal breaker and I won't do it. So, there I stood, with my head to the floor, desperately clinging to the ragged remains of what was my shit through the entire service. I couldn't look up because I knew if I did, it would start all over again. I'd been feeling like a shell shock victim all week long because I just couldn't find all the emotions and all the words to express myself. Suddenly, I had too much and I was close to overload. But, eventually, I managed to get through it. We took the casket and put it in the herse for the short trip to the funeral home. A few hours after that, he would be cremated and that would be the real end of the entire episode. We stayed for lunch and talked about unimportant things. I managed to take a few pictures and maybe soon, I'll put them up here somewhere for everyone to see.
My brother and I got back to the house and he got ready to leave to go back to Arkansas. I got ready to go take the camera back to my uncle before going downtown for a few drinks, because if you think I was going back home to the madness there, YOU ARE HIGHER THAN A KITE. Besides, I had to get away because I just needed time alone to put everything in perspective. I had to turn to my faith because, in the end, that was the only thing that was going to get me through this hell I found myself in. Last night after I got home, I sat down in the basement, staring at the computer and I slowly got it all back into perpective.
Sometimes, things happen for reasons we can't hope to see or fully understand. Sometimes opportunities are found in the worse of circumstances. And, yes, the shiniest gems are found in the darkest caves. It never helps to sit and just try to find all the answers. Sometimes the answers aren't for us and they were never meant to be. It's ok to hurt. And it's ok to be angry. It's ok to laugh out loud at a funeral or a visitation. It's an affirmation of life. It's how we know that things are going to go on no matter what. A man died, but that doesn't mean we all die. We just have to hold onto what we have left around us because the next time could be sooner than we think. I miss him and I'm always going to miss him, just like I miss all the other people who have stepped on into another life somewhere beyond my limited sight. Someday, it's going to make more sense. Right now, just concentrate on what you have left and the memories you do have. Enjoy them, cherish them and keep on going because you're life still has many moments left. And, you know what? It's ok that I think about the money. I know, because, if he were hear right now, he'd be telling me that this is something that's going to help me get my life back in order and get out from everyone elses shadow. To live my life to my best, no matter where that may take me.
The last thing Vickie said to me before I left Thursday was that he loved me. And, I told her, "I know. It was the last thing he said to me before he left. And it's the last thing I told him too." So, there, I did it again. I ended a relationship with someone on a good note again. I can let him go, because I know that all that needed to be said was said between us. no regrets, no goodbyes.
The curious epilogue to this tale came this evening before going to work. Mom came home and she was coming up the stairs. She paused for a moment and started to cry. She didn't know why, but I do. Too many regrets. Too many missed chances. She will just have to deal with that in time.
posted by Not Your TGM | 1:30 AM
2 Comments:
Good thing I'm not in public, cuz I'm sitting here in front of the computer with tears streaming down my cheeks.
*hug*
Beautiful post, Jon. And I'll forgive you the lie, just the once; it wasn't your fault, after all.
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