untitled
There's a quiet emptiness now. We've cleared the house of so many things now, and the walls have taken on a somewhat eerie blankness. There's now an empty space in the bedroom where the bed -- our bed used to be. My voice now echoes in the hallway leading to the door of the apartment and the bedroom; we removed...or rather, mom removed all of the things we all kept that served to fill the spaces with our voices, voices of joy, sadness, laughter, and of the mundaneness of everyday life that I now so sorely miss. I cannot return to any routine because I have to routine to return to. I've trained myself to not expect him to come out of the bedroom from an afternoon nap to say a friendly hello as I'd come home from school, forced myself not to expect him to be in the kitchen cooking my mother and I a fresh, hot, warm meal, served, as always, with a generous side of hugs and smiles.
All I have left is a box of mementos from his knapsack, and a memory of a dead body lying in a casket, dressed in a blue suit that was probably two sizes too small for his bulbous form. I fight to maintain the memory of warm tanned skin brushing upon my face as he hugged me, pray each and ever day that it doesn't get replaced in my mind by the sight of grey cold flesh with caked on makeup, a callous and contrived likeness of life.
They say I should forget...that I should move on. That it's time to stop grieving.
Fuck them. Fuck them all. Fuck each and every one of you for telling me that I should all of a sudden flick a switch on in my mind and forget that for 22 years and 11 months I had a father. I will have my grief. I will have my pain and sadness and I will wrap myself in it like the shroud that wrapped the body of Christ as he lay hanging, humiliated, broken, and beaten on the cross. I will revel in my sorrow and it will be as much a part of me as my jealousy and my rage and my anger.
And damned be anyone who dares to stand in my way.
posted by Ctenuchid @ 10:58 p.m.
1 comments
1 Comments:
Justin love, don't ever let anyone tell you you need to move on, stop grieving. I still haven't moved on from my grandmothers death, and as with you I fight with images in my head.. trying to picture the healthy loving woman, not the one in a casket. I'll explain later, when you are ready--if you are ready to hear, but long story short, the last image I have is a picture my twisted uncle sent of her in a casket that I happened to accidently see.
Days, weeks, months, years; they will all slowly help ease the pain but that pain will always be there in some way.. You will always feel grief, there will always be days you expect to still see your father, or suddenly think of him as someone to go to and then realize you can't. Anybody that tells you not to grieve is just trying to help, has never lost someone before. Grieving is okay.. in some ways I think its healthy to grieve, and everyone has their own way of doing so, has their own time of grievance.
There will be a time when normalcy finds its way back to you, when you walk into the building and feel you are home again. until then know I'm here. I'll always be here..
Jen
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