Zombie
I still find myself in a zombie-like state of incredulity and incomprehension that Dad is really gone. I still can't quite believe or comprehend it. Maybe I am even in some sort of denial. I just can't fit it in my head. He can't be gone. I don't know that I'll ever fully understand the finality of this.
And I have been so sluggish and tired... sleeping more, unmotivated. And I have been dreaming about Dad. Actually, it's mostly been dreaming around Dad in the sense that it has been about things like planning now that he's gone. I guess I am carrying some anxiety about that.
Well... there was one disturbing dream from last night. I dreamed that Dad was alive... and not just alive like he once was months ago, but I dreamed that was dead and in some apartment and that we had to move him. Beth and I were fighting over whether to move him in a sitting or lying down position when he got up and was suddenly alive. Maybe I AM in denial.
I've also noticed that I am super-paranoid about Mom's health now. I've been told by those who have had cancer go into remission that it is always so incredibly unnerving after that because every pain isn't just a pain, but the possibility that growth has begun again. I've felt like that with Mom, worrying with every cough and headache that she is sick and won't get better. She's been feeling under the weather, and so I've moved from caring for Dad to Mom. But I worry what happens when I leave; there won't be anyone to care for her anymore. Beth is close, but she isn't living here. What if Mom falls or has another stroke? When Mom naps, I periodically check on her to make sure her chest still rises and falls. Last night, when she was really sick, I had these frightening premonitions of losing her too quickly after Dad. She needs to live 20 or 25 more good years. And I worry about her being alone once I leave. Tonight, I was on my computer while Mom did some dishes, and I heard her crying. She said she was feeling sorry for herself now that Dad is gone. I know she'll have those times, and she should grieve... but I worry about her being alone. I feel like I'll want to call and visit more often now.... I'll be even more protective. I know she is a busy, involved woman... but she has never lived alone - 30 years with her Mom and then 30 with Dad. Soon, she'll be alone...
I haven't been crying, but sometimes I feel like I would if I just slowed down enough to think. I have those thoughts if this being unfair... of it all happening too damn fast. I was just with Dad. I have pictures from Christmas and my visit in March and from 2 weeks ago. We went driving and shopping and walking. I helped him eat and walk. He can't be gone. I sometimes feel like I am writing about someone else... someone else's family. My Dad can't be dead. Dead. Dad. He's really gone forever. There is just no way to make it real. Maybe there never will be.
And I have been so sluggish and tired... sleeping more, unmotivated. And I have been dreaming about Dad. Actually, it's mostly been dreaming around Dad in the sense that it has been about things like planning now that he's gone. I guess I am carrying some anxiety about that.
Well... there was one disturbing dream from last night. I dreamed that Dad was alive... and not just alive like he once was months ago, but I dreamed that was dead and in some apartment and that we had to move him. Beth and I were fighting over whether to move him in a sitting or lying down position when he got up and was suddenly alive. Maybe I AM in denial.
I've also noticed that I am super-paranoid about Mom's health now. I've been told by those who have had cancer go into remission that it is always so incredibly unnerving after that because every pain isn't just a pain, but the possibility that growth has begun again. I've felt like that with Mom, worrying with every cough and headache that she is sick and won't get better. She's been feeling under the weather, and so I've moved from caring for Dad to Mom. But I worry what happens when I leave; there won't be anyone to care for her anymore. Beth is close, but she isn't living here. What if Mom falls or has another stroke? When Mom naps, I periodically check on her to make sure her chest still rises and falls. Last night, when she was really sick, I had these frightening premonitions of losing her too quickly after Dad. She needs to live 20 or 25 more good years. And I worry about her being alone once I leave. Tonight, I was on my computer while Mom did some dishes, and I heard her crying. She said she was feeling sorry for herself now that Dad is gone. I know she'll have those times, and she should grieve... but I worry about her being alone. I feel like I'll want to call and visit more often now.... I'll be even more protective. I know she is a busy, involved woman... but she has never lived alone - 30 years with her Mom and then 30 with Dad. Soon, she'll be alone...
I haven't been crying, but sometimes I feel like I would if I just slowed down enough to think. I have those thoughts if this being unfair... of it all happening too damn fast. I was just with Dad. I have pictures from Christmas and my visit in March and from 2 weeks ago. We went driving and shopping and walking. I helped him eat and walk. He can't be gone. I sometimes feel like I am writing about someone else... someone else's family. My Dad can't be dead. Dead. Dad. He's really gone forever. There is just no way to make it real. Maybe there never will be.
posted by Bob at 10:45 PM
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