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| Saturday, February 04, 2006 |
| Up in the Attic Somewhere |
I've always considered myself to be a pretty strong person in a crisis. I'm a "well what now?" kind of person. When something happens, I take it in, and then immediately start to figure what needs to be done to get through it. I was even that way when my father died. How do we get to mom? Ok, now that we're here what needs to get done? Of course I had my moments of just utter grief, but my feelings on rising from them were, as I have said, "ok what now?" I never, ever, have broken down to the point where I can't think of what needs to be done to make things better. But I think that, while this attitude is helpful to the people around me, and it keeps me busy, it doesn't make anything go away. It's all sitting up in my attic somewhere.
My mother and I are going to visit my dad's mother tomorrow, and of course that brings up lots of memories. So it probably shouldn't be surprising that last night I had an extremely intense dream about my father. Normally I wouldn't blog about it, even, but I don't have my journal, and it needs to come out, so this seemed the next likely spot.
In the dream, in the back of my head I knew something had happened to my father that was bad. But he was still here in the dream, and he was having heart problems. I was trying to convince him to go to the doctor. I was a complete and utter mess, sobbing out that face-distorting cry that only comes with despair, because I could not get him to get help. I was pleading with him, "I cannot lose you. I couldn't bear to lose you. You cannot leave me here, I can not lose you."
I woke up completely spent and more exhausted than when I had fallen asleep. Upon awakening I lost all recollection of what my father's reaction was to my pleas. I do know that while he was alive he never refused me anything that I needed and he could provide, but that in the dream his heart was hardened in more ways than one. |
posted by LoRi~fLoWer
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