Surface Tension

It’s still hard to wrap my head around the fact my dad is dead.  It hits me in waves, tsunamis sometimes.  But it’s the small, seemingly harmless wavelets that seem to hurt the most.

Today is a hidey-hole day.  I don’t want to be in the world, except for a brief foray to the Mexican joint up the street.  I went to sleep feeling like this, I woke and canceled the one appointment on the calendar.

It’s been a couple weeks now, since Andy died.  The shock is starting to wear off as the grief sets in.  Taking care of him towards the end was grueling, I worried every minute and spent many hours seeing to his needs.  When he died, he was past ready to go.  He wanted out, I wanted that for him.

Have a look at this video please:

 

At around 1:15 the metaphor for my current emotional state begins.  After all these months of everything being about Andy, I felt a surge of release right after he died.  I was freed from the constant worry, the decisions and the guilt.  The surface of my tension spasmed, liberating a fat droplet of my psyche from the confines of my situation.

 Immediately after his death, I was very productive.  There’s a lot of bureaucracy involved, plus taking care of the estate, I got a lot done.  But, like the fat droplet, I kept bouncing back down and losing a little momentum each time.  

Each bounce makes the droplet smaller by half.

Finally, I had to acknowledge that dealing with Andy’s things was too much for me to handle myself.  I found an estate liquidator, we went through the house yesterday.  Thoroughly.  I’m glad to have exported this job, but it made me finally realize how gone my dad is.  

He’s dead.  My world got smaller somehow.  His house got smaller.  It’s so lonely here without him, I even miss being yelled at.

My bubble has vanished altogether, swallowed back up by the water. 

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