Things I've Lost

My Dad used to print out my blog for my Mom because (a) he was always hogging the computer and , (b) she would rather read on paper than the screen. So there is a huge binder in the living room with my blog in it. I picked it up today and started to flip through. This book began January 1, 2007. I only read a few entries but it made me realize something-I used to be funny and upbeat. It seems like, despite whatever trials I was shuffling through, I was optimistic and happy. I guess 2007 wasn't really a bad year. I told a girlfriend at the beginning of this year that 2008 was Her Year, and as it turns out I was right. And I can tell you, it sure as fuck hasn't been the Year of Me.

This year I have lost:
My Dad
Time with my husband (including all of our birthdays)
My sense of humor
My marbles
My patience
My cool
My perspective

I hadn't noticed just how much until today.

Two Months

Dad's been gone two months today. It is hard to believe. Even with all of the sorting and clearing out we've been doing around the house, I still half expect him to turn up. After the car almost caught fire the other night, all I could think was, "Wait til Dad hears about this!"

I went to the cemetery today for the first time since the funeral. I got lost looking for him and had to go to the directory. But even once I found him, I didn't really feel him there. I honestly think I'd feel closer to him at the fire house. I may just sneak in one day.

He's been gone two months. I wish it weren't true. I miss him.

On the Run

We went to Vermont and I didn't find it as upsetting as I expected. What surprised me was how hard Dad's loss hit me when we got back home. Like, "What, he's not back yet?" I had a pretty good time on vacation but I wonder if things weren't bothering my more than I acknowledged. I couldn't breathe. I have had, in the past, stress-induced asthma. (When I said this in front of my cousin's new boyfriend, he said"What do you have to be stressed about, you're on vacation?!" But he's young and new to the family so I let it pass) I found that, when I was running, I could breathe. I don't know if it was because I expected to have to work harder to get a full breath or that my body was working more efficiently or that my stress was lower. Or that I'm just completely nuts (I did say to the nurse at the medical center, "What I probably need is a shrink and some Zoloft but I'll take an antihistamine.") . Oddly, when we got to my best friend. Meme's, house in the Great North Woods, I was fine. The wine and martinis may have helped.

Do you remember the movie Real Genius? A classic Val Kilmer film from the 80's. Whenever I mention running to Meme, she states, "I only run when chased" in homage to Val. This used to always be my answer too. And, to be truthful ,it still is. But now I feel like I'm being pursued.
By weight.
By age.
By vanity.
By genetics.
By death.
But mostly, by Fear.

I don't think I can outrun the inevitable, but, damn it, I'm going to give it a shot. I'm not going without a fight. I'm afraid of getting sick, of slowly slipping away from myself, of not being around for my son, of the unknown. It is pursuing me. I am compelled. I remember how I felt 30 pounds ago, and I didn't like it. I didn't recognize myself. Now, when I look in the mirror, I know that woman in there. I don't want her to disappear.