Again...best said via email to my friend A.;
Part of me (Peace be damned) wants to send this Obit blog post to my aunt. But I have refrained.
My heart tells me my father would not want this to happen, and I have the blog as my private
sounding board, as my aunt has my cousin, and vice versa, the major difference I guess being
that they mirror exactly what they want to hear/see.
Well, I'm happy to see the time of almost 10pm. I really want father's day behind me, god forgive me for rushing one of his days.
I fell apart last night in the grocery store in front of a display of father's day cards, thought to myself, could i not just have bought one early? but then i thought, and then when would i give it to him? early, saying, here, in case...didn't want to invade his hope like that.
i might still buy one tomorrow, write it out and offer it into the universe. what would that be like.
tracing the tears....they come when i remember i've forgotten he's not here. When i go to ask my mom "how is dad?" when I look for the email that doesn't come.
when i jog through suburbia, empty of people, just me, my running shoes, the birds,
a swingset (i'm writing a blog post on suburbia is it obvious?)
the tears arrive then. They come from my non-belief place, the part that can't believe
I am still able to slip into a bath, have a bite of chicken, a sip of wine, a calming pill, listen to a new song, and he's still gone. Fuck, I just finished getting to a better place in grieving for gerard and now all this. New grief, and it's completely different.
Your flowers are doing well, orange and bright, I brought themn home with me, eucaplyptus,
staring straight out into the world, giving my apartment some life amongst all the sadness.
Ahh the Beatles. Here Comes the Sun.
love and light
carolyn
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