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 contemplative |
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I've been thinking a lot about my dad lately. It's been six months now. It feels like obsessing, but like it's towards a purpose; like I'm somehow working through a life lesson or philosophy right beneath the surface, and while I'm not conscious of the action, I'm aware of the subject...
I think maybe I'm realizing the source of my helplessness. ?? Having your parents die is probably the worst fear of any child. I remember rehearsing and preparing myself, in a way, from the time I was small all the way through high school. I tried to imagine what my life would be like without them, and if I would more firmly affirm or negate my belief in a higher power and afterlife. And of course the comments about Grandma and Uncle Dennis "watching over us", popping into mind while we, say, try that joint being passed around a party, or when we have sex and move in with someone before marriage.
And the best way I can explain what I'm feeling is that I don't identify with any age group.
I permanently moved out of my folks' house later than many of my peers: I was almost 20, and I only moved out because I felt I was too old and was starting to miss some life lessons and experiences that were important to developing as a whole person. When I asked my mom about moving out on my own, she cried; when I asked my dad, he tried to convince me to stay, and damn near succeeded. But I moved out and lived with a roommate, and then Rod moved in, and then Rod and I moved here and got married. And in the middle of all of this were three major episodes and a hospitalization, followed by a hard year struggling for remission before the wedding; then four months later, my dad died. So I guess what I'm saying, is that while I am technically an adult (I have lived "on my own" and supported myself for 3 years), having finally experienced the loss of a parent, particularly one so close to me, has really thrown me back emotionally.
It feels almost like the last 13 years of my development has gone into autopilot, and though I am somehow functioning more or less as would be expected, emotionally, I feel defenseless and as questioning as if I were an eight year old.
I'm jealous when I think that my mom got to have both her parents live to see her child born and grow up. And the people around me, who have forgotten the childhood terror of losing their parents, and have been lucky enough to have not yet been reminded. Or if they have, they were given a chance to establish themselves first, and have a norm to return to. And when I look around me at the people who have their 81-year old dad, or their pain in the ass 73-year old father... 61 seems so young. I reconciled the irrational "it's not fair" argument early on intentionally, but the feeling keeps cropping up.
So through all this rambling, I have wasted many words in search of a few.
Much in the way that I live my life sorting through a myriad of thoughts, hoping that the right ones will somehow stick together long enough to click.
So what I've gotten out of all of this is that after we "get over", or learn to ignore the terror that someone we love will leave us, when someone finally does, that terror pulls a lot of power in with it.
And that power is overwhelming to the point that it pulls with it the weight it held when we experienced it at its strongest, because it is proven that it is real now, and that everything you rehearsed for and wondered about--- there is no more grace period.
And while I understand this more clearly, and I can feel my mind working through some concepts, I am hoping that one of them will be how to use the understanding to reestablish myself and move on wholly. It feels as if I am moving on too quickly, and leaving half of myself behind, and the more time that passes and the more changes I make in my life, the further behind I leave myself.
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optimistic
embarrassed
envious