Off the Beaten Track

We've been back almost a month now and while on the surface everything looks normal and like we are moving ahead. I feel like I'm swirling around most days. My schedule helps and I'm getting things done, but I feel disconnected or removed. It's worst at night. I am back to not sleeping. I spend many hours on the couch staring at the TV or ignoring it in a quest for rest.

I have a friend I recently got back in touch with who also, even more recently, lost her partner of 7 years to a brain aneurysm. She started a blog and her pain seems like the only thing that makes sense to me some days. Basically no one here knew my Dad and so life has not changed for them with his death. It's almost like the whole block of time doesn't exist here. I've been feeling right along that my 7 months home were out of regular time. Being back here at my own house has only reinforced that feeling.

Sometimes my son is the only thing that seems real in my daily life. And I feel liek a waver between holding on to him and being exhausted by him. He's only 3 and isn't responsible for me. But, bless him, he gives shape to my days.

I'm just so tired, I can't rest and nothing in my head will settle. It is a dust storm in there, a tornado. And I don't expect to land in Oz.

Journeys

As I get closer to my departure date, I get more excited and more apprehensive. I just spent some time getting my pictures uploaded to my external hard drive so I can transport them home. I also transferred Dad's pictures. The last he took with his camera of us. I can't believe all that has happened in 6 months. I can't believe he'll be gone 3 months as of this weekend. How did that happen? How is it possible? I miss him so much.

I think it's really going to hit me when I leave all over again. Leaving this house, leaving the state. Leaving things behind.

When my sister picked me up at the airport in March, it was weird. Dad always picked me up. Him and the dog. And sometimes Mom. The dog died last October so this summer would have been our first visit without him around. I suppose my Mom would have gotten to ride along. But it was always Dad waiting for me at the end of the hallway. And always him who dropped me off when I left. The one and only time he ever dropped me off without waiting was the one time my flight was delayed by hours. Back before the advent of cell phone. But this time my sister will drop me off too. A new era.

I'm not really sure what I believe about the afterlife. I don't really believe that nothing happens when we die. I want to believe there is something. I don't know that I buy into the whole choir of angels and pearly gates. But I think that if there is an afterlife, that Dad, and the dog, will be there waiting for me. When I finish that longest of journeys, he will be there at the end of the hallway, waiting for me. And when I see his face, I will know that I am home.

Filter

You know how some people seem to completely lack a filter between their brain and their mouth? I'm very fortunate that my filter seems to be working overtime when I need it most. In the last few months it has saved me from two potentially disastrous situations.

Situation one:
I am telling friends about these great Japanese rice crackers that the hubby and I came to love overseas. We had been unable to find them and then I spotted them in a specialty grocery store shortly before we both left home. They are addictive- teriyaki flavored crackers with a sweet dribble glaze on top. And just before I say, "They put the "crack" in cracker", my filter kicks in and I remember one of these friends is, in fact, fighting against drug addiction. I manage to stop myself just in time and shift gears.

Situation two:
I am talking with an old coworker who I have not seen in some time. He asks about my husband and I explain how he is deployed and how tedious it becomes and how anxious he is to get home. I start to compare his deployed situation to "being in prison" but before the words exit my mouth I remember that this particular friend has done time. Actual prison time that we have never discussed. And I manage to stop myself before I embarrass the both of us.

I am living in fear of the day my filter craps out on me.

Closing Time

It is time to go home. The family drama level is beginning to swirl dangerously high to my shore. I do not with to be involved. At all. I am Switzerland. I am Switzerland with my fingers in my ears, humming a happy tune. This may seem juvenille but it's mostly self defense. I have learned over time that becoming embroiled in the drama of others is a futile and frustrating exercise. I've alwasy been pretty good at staying out of drama in my workplace nad my friendships. But it is far harder when it comes to family. I've improved slowly over time. When the drama was mine, I tried very hard not to draw others into it. I didn't want people to chose sides or damage relationships. Living here, I'm rather dropped right in the middle of things.

The Reader's Digest versions are: my sisters haven't spoken to each other since the funeral; my older sister's family was basically three hours late for her birthday cake at Mom's house and while they were here, her husband made an unfortunate comment that really upset my Mom. Now Mom doesn't want to speak to him and, although he hasn't called yet, she keeps making me answer the phone.

When I gave my husband the brief overview, his reaction was, "Sounds like it's time to go home." I'm morphing into him more each day. I'm really starting to look forward to my nice, quiet house on the far coast.

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.