what matters and why

death

5/24/02
2:40pm

As I watched him up there looking a million miles away, I wanted to cry. Considering the circumstances, it was surprising that it was the first really sad feeling I'd had. The service was impersonal and ritualistic and I saw no resemblence of the person I knew, even if not well. That's what was so horrible. The motions were there but that was it. There was nothing of significance, only a simple service, or what they tried to call it, a celebration. And one life is over. And everyone moves on as if nothing happened. It's weird how you expect the world to stop what they're doing. I could feel his pain as he spoke and that's what was so hard. I knew there was so much moe he wished he could say yet he seemed to have little support. It's like they just wanted it over and done with and to move on, to take care of things, go on with the materialistic side of life. I thought it would be a wake up call, that the visit would contain more raw emotion, more sadness, and in the end satisfaction. It was none of that. It was just something you're supposed to do when someone passes away. He wanted to say that he wished he'd had more time to connect with his spiritual side, that he'd wished he had tried harder to convert him when the time was there. Yet we all thought there would be more time. He wished he could have been there more, instead of a thousand miles away, living his own life with his own family. He wanted to explain to all of them that it's not about the symbols and traditions but about a simple feeling, a knowledge that you know you have. Who am I to judge them when I've done nothing to further myself in that aspect. That just as they do, I go through the motions, do as I'm told, and rarely expose any kind of weakness or insecurity. That's just how it is. you cover it up, you move on. You justify everything you know is not the way it should be. You don't talk about what happens now, where he might have gone. You say that things will get better in the long run and it's just a hard time. I can't see how it will get any easier to deal with any other kind of death. I don't want to go through that again, yet I know that it's there. How could we just leave her there, with a stranger, knowing it's not what she wanted. I know my stomach was tied in knots for days, I cannot imagine what my dad went through and is still dealing with. What's the right thing to do in that situation, who's to decide. All I know is that I left that city with an incomplete feeling. That nothing had gone the way it was supposed to. We rarely spoke of the presence that was not there anymore. How different it made things, but it was not discussed. I left feeling like there was so much moer that could have been said, so much more that could have been done for her, in her pain, in her sorrow, I feel like she was left empty hearted. And what can she do now. They are there for her physically but what about emotionally. Who is she supposed to talk to. Seems that there's some unwritten rule that oyu just don't talk about stuff. Just move on, don't tell anyone how you feel. And it's carried over into this generation, into myself in a way that I'd never wanted. I prefer silence rather than discussion. When my son speaks incessantly, instead of appreciating that I find myself wishing he would just be quiet. I struggle with sitting down to speak to him directly with no distractions. I wish that I'd had someone growing up who had taught me to openly express emotions, good or bad. I wish that everything didn't have to tense and uncomfortable all the time. Going through all the motions of that funeral I wasn't sure exactly what i was supposed to feel, if there is such a feeling, someone I'd loved in this life who I'd known since I was small, who played such a huge part in my life. And then he's gone and what is left is regret that I made little effort to stay in touch, regret that I didn't get the special get well card we made there soon enough. The emotions I felt came from sympathy for what my dad was going through and wondering how I would deal with that in thirty or so years.

I sometimes wonder if things are planned out in a certain way. His time had come, and he was taken away. He had however experienced time with a great grandson, something not all people get the oppurtunity to do. The comment he made when I was in labor, "am I a great grandfather yet?" stays with me to this day. That one thing, knowing that he was excited for the birth of my child, even though it was not under the best circumstances. I felt like a disappointment to everyone I knew, and here he was excited for this baby boy. If I had chosen differently way back then, the oppurtunity never would have come up. It always comes back to that - why? I still have these doubts, visiting the city makes me feel like I lost so much by staying here...that we never got that chance to experience life. All my chlidhood I wanted to be out on my own, and it just didn't turn out that way. What I got is far better, I see so many struggling with the hardships of that life. And though it turned out better, why does always come back to that choice?

I think about her all the time, living in that big house with a stranger, someone who she can barely speak to, how does anyone know what goes on? Am I just like them, would I want that kind of involvement as they do - as little as possible? When the time comes, am i going to handle the situation ritualistically, or will I be able to share emotions at that time. Will I be strong enough to sacrifice my life to care for someone else, or will I resort to selfishness? It scares me becuase I know how selfish I can be. I know that my privacy is one of the most essential things that I have. Without time alone, I am unbearable to be around. I hope that in time, life experience will change that.