I dont know what the right euphemism is for todays task. We didnt bury Dad, so I cant say we put him in the ground (more on than in). Just saying that we spread his ashes sounds too mundane to my ears, but Ill go with what I have. I said my words, completely unsure if they were the right words, upended the bag, and watched what used to be in a vastly different form spill out over the leaves and logs. I dont know why Dad picked that place, but I think it was the right one. And so, wearing the same pants I wore when we buried Pop, I left the ovens ashes and made it back without incident. I dont know how to grieve. I dont know if Im doing it, or if Im doing things that help. All I know how to do is follow the routine and try to keep The Calm. It wont be enough, but I dont guess anything would be. Theres a line in Firefly that keeps running through my head: When you cant run anymore, you crawl, and when you cant do that, well—Yeah, you know the rest. Im tired. Im exhausted, inside and out. Mentally, emotionally, and physically empty to the point that Im writing interpersonal checks that I wont be able to cash for years. There are things that need doing, conversations that need having and wrongs that need righting, but please, universe of balance, let me do them later.
Posted on: Tue, 30 Sep 2014 02:58:51 +0000
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