I managed to stay awake until about 7:30am this morning, when I finally crashed out on the office floor with the puppy. Couldn’t go sleep on the bed, I knew I’d never get up! The floor got hard and hot, so I got up around 10:30am… and have been going ever since. To bad it was snowing today, it would have been a perfect time to garden. Instead I cooked, and read, and did laundry…not much of anything, really.
Being tired always makes me sort of morbid. All day I’ve wandered what my Dad and I would have talked about if he’d had the chance to say goodbye. Would it have been easier if we knew he was going to die? In a few days it will be exactly 2 years since I’ve seen him. Somehow this “anniversary” is more important than the day he died. I actually blogged on the last day I touched him… so I can never forget the date. Sometimes I want to rewind time and do it all over. To have a chance to say I love you, one last time… to know what he would have said to me… the if only is plaguing me today.
Not saying goodbye makes it feel surreal. I can’t remember the last conversation I had with him. Most likely it was from work… the phone in the break room had free long distance so I’d sit up there and skip eating so I could call my parents. I’m sure he answered the phone and passed me off to my Mom, because he hated talking on the phone as much as I do. My Dad was a quiet person, unless he had something he needed to talk through, or a reason to yell… he always said the most when we fought, which happened a lot. He told me sometimes things just don’t sound right out loud… so it’s ok to keep them inside. We understood each other, in a strange way I can’t explain.
Would he have passed on some wonderful, life changing kernel of knowledge? Would I have apologized for being such a brat? I can’t help but wonder if it would have hurt less… to be prepared, to say goodbye… instead of getting that phone call. The phone call I knew I didn’t want to answer. Reconciling the man I saw 2 years ago, with the empty body on the table at the mortuary… it just doesn’t add up in my head. The last time I hugged him… he was getting healthy, losing weight, there was a new spark to his eyes… the weariness that used to weigh down his shoulders was fading. And the next time I saw him, he was lifeless, gray… despite their attempts at make-up…and so cold. I don’t understand how you can go so abruptly from one to the other.
Strangely, instead of feeling empty today… like a part of me is missing, I feel so overwhelmed with emotion, so full of tears and woe that I can’t breath. It’s a strange feeling, I am so used to that hole…My Momo (maternal grandma) held me as I talked to my Mom on the phone that morning…afterwards, while I was waiting to go to the airport we sat outside together and she told me not to cry in front of my Mom. Her boys never cried over their Dad when he passed in December 2005, and I shouldn’t burden my Mom with my tears either… she said to be strong for her and Becky, to grieve quietly.
I still hear those words when I go to pick up the phone and call my Mom… I did cry in front of her, I couldn’t help it… but I felt guilty afterwards. It was the same with Becky. There are still days when I want to curl up with one of them and just sob. Instead I write here…trying to talk to Chris about it is difficult… he hasn’t lost anyone he was close to…my blog is my outlet, more so than the grief counselor I saw ever was…but days like today, it just doesn’t feel like enough. Especially with the new way it feels…I’m not ready to say goodbye, but I regret that we never did.
