The Good Die
The good die and the assholes live, a colleague said to me yesterday. So painfully true.
I think about my sister every day. She is in my thoughts, always. In my dreams, she is smiling and happy. I can't shake the image of her dead when I'm awake. It is all I see. I know in time that will change.
My whole world is shaken, unsteady and unfamiliar now. Teaching has been an incredible gift to me. It gives me respite from what feels like constant sadness.
In time, that will change, too.
Loss brings up loss brings up loss. My mother has been haunting my dreams again. She is never happy with me. I am tired of this image. Awake, I know she would have been proud of me. Well, mostly proud.
Thus the dreams.
More losses come up- the loss of my family of origin. It is gone. Other losses too painful to write about, of childhood, and a father's love and so much more. It is, I have been told, the way we wade through death of someone close.
I have countless papers to go through, and I must clean out her house by February 28th. It is an impossible task. When I go over, I wander around in circles, and am easily overwhelmed.
I don't want to. I have to.
I know there are services to do such things but it feels wrong to me. The problem? I'm simply not ready to let go. It has been pointed out that I refused to believe she was dying when she was dying.
The good die. She is gone. Every day makes it less difficult to believe.
But no less painful.
I think about my sister every day. She is in my thoughts, always. In my dreams, she is smiling and happy. I can't shake the image of her dead when I'm awake. It is all I see. I know in time that will change.
My whole world is shaken, unsteady and unfamiliar now. Teaching has been an incredible gift to me. It gives me respite from what feels like constant sadness.
In time, that will change, too.
Loss brings up loss brings up loss. My mother has been haunting my dreams again. She is never happy with me. I am tired of this image. Awake, I know she would have been proud of me. Well, mostly proud.
Thus the dreams.
More losses come up- the loss of my family of origin. It is gone. Other losses too painful to write about, of childhood, and a father's love and so much more. It is, I have been told, the way we wade through death of someone close.
I have countless papers to go through, and I must clean out her house by February 28th. It is an impossible task. When I go over, I wander around in circles, and am easily overwhelmed.
I don't want to. I have to.
I know there are services to do such things but it feels wrong to me. The problem? I'm simply not ready to let go. It has been pointed out that I refused to believe she was dying when she was dying.
The good die. She is gone. Every day makes it less difficult to believe.
But no less painful.
posted by Sara at 8:56 AM
5 Comments:
Damn, Sara. I am writing about this very same thing today. I actually wrote, "Every death brings back every other death."
Same-same.
It's just hard.
some days harder than others. today is a hard one.
Sara,
So sorry for your loss. I lost my younger brother almost two years ago, and my father 6 weeks ago on Christmas Day. The pain never goes away, but it becomes a bit less sharp as time passes. You will continue to have good days and bad days. My hope for you is that you will begin to have more good days than bad. Sending healing vibes through the universe to you. :-)
hang in there sister!
sorry it didn't work out for us to get together while i was down in ogunquit this week. hopefully next time!
I'm so sorry Sara. Know we're thinking of you.
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