![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
My father is dead,
I received a call from my mother today, Literally just as I was walking out the door. answered it curtly, but the moment she spoke I knew something was wrong. My father died in his sleep last night- he had a bite to eat, some red wine, and then went to sleep and didn't wake up.
I was shocked by the intensity of my reaction- I've had a mixed relationship with my father, there had been a lot of anger, and frankly, my first reaction when he moved back in with my mother was to feel sorry for my mother. Also, he had been declining for years- after he broke his his, he just seemed to give up. The last time I saw him, he was very frail, barely able to move out of his chair. I should have been expecting it. But still, I honestly expected to live forever- declining a little more each day. I felt like I had separated myself from his life, so I couldn't understand why I was crying off and on.
By the time we reached my mother's house, the initial shock and emotions had worn off, to be replaced by a strange calmness that lasted through much of the morning. We were able to make jokes, and to the extent that I was feeing anything, it was relief that he died peacefully at home. To a degree I felt like I was a cold bastard, dealing with things so rationally, reading the paper while waiting for the people from the Neptune Society to come, thinking about finances, talking about the future. I signed the release papers, said goodbye to his velvet covered body, and he was gone. And I was OK- sad to be sure, but managing. I didn't feel any sense of finality or completion, but life was going on.
And then I start writing this journal, and I keep having to stop because I'm overwhelmed by emotions that just well up like a tide. I keep interrupting writing this because I keep breaking down. There's a depth of emotion around dad, that I never let myself realize, because I was too busy being irritated at him.
The last time I saw him, I asked him if he could pay for my tuxedo for my wedding. Mom said that he was so very happy and proud to be asked that. I'm glad that that's the last thing I could give him.
.
I received a call from my mother today, Literally just as I was walking out the door. answered it curtly, but the moment she spoke I knew something was wrong. My father died in his sleep last night- he had a bite to eat, some red wine, and then went to sleep and didn't wake up.
I was shocked by the intensity of my reaction- I've had a mixed relationship with my father, there had been a lot of anger, and frankly, my first reaction when he moved back in with my mother was to feel sorry for my mother. Also, he had been declining for years- after he broke his his, he just seemed to give up. The last time I saw him, he was very frail, barely able to move out of his chair. I should have been expecting it. But still, I honestly expected to live forever- declining a little more each day. I felt like I had separated myself from his life, so I couldn't understand why I was crying off and on.
By the time we reached my mother's house, the initial shock and emotions had worn off, to be replaced by a strange calmness that lasted through much of the morning. We were able to make jokes, and to the extent that I was feeing anything, it was relief that he died peacefully at home. To a degree I felt like I was a cold bastard, dealing with things so rationally, reading the paper while waiting for the people from the Neptune Society to come, thinking about finances, talking about the future. I signed the release papers, said goodbye to his velvet covered body, and he was gone. And I was OK- sad to be sure, but managing. I didn't feel any sense of finality or completion, but life was going on.
And then I start writing this journal, and I keep having to stop because I'm overwhelmed by emotions that just well up like a tide. I keep interrupting writing this because I keep breaking down. There's a depth of emotion around dad, that I never let myself realize, because I was too busy being irritated at him.
The last time I saw him, I asked him if he could pay for my tuxedo for my wedding. Mom said that he was so very happy and proud to be asked that. I'm glad that that's the last thing I could give him.
.