crypticgirl: (Default)
( Sep. 21st, 2008 06:02 pm)
In the lead up to the funeral, people kept telling me that the ceremony would give me a sense of closure. In some ways I feel as though the exact opposite is true. Yes, I've managed to tie off aspects of my relationship with my Dad. But at a time when I was already questioning a lot of things about who I am and what I want to be, this has spun me in different directions altogether. Some of it appears to be an accelerating of ideas and thoughts which were already happening, and some of it is completely out of left field. I think maybe his death is giving me permission to think and feel and see things I didn't want to before.

This is so hard. Change is never easy, but in the middle of grief and with no simple answers it feels like it's extra tough. I miss being sure about myself, or at least having the illusion that I was sure about myself. Some of the stuff I'm going through is ... odd, and it's calling into play almost everything I think and believe. Suddenly it feels as though I have no idea who I am or where I'm going.

I know that if I'm ever so sure of myself that I become truly complacent I will be living the kind of dull life I never want to have. I just wish it didn't have to be quite this interesting at just this point.
crypticgirl: (Default)
( Sep. 5th, 2008 12:28 am)
Thank you so much to everyone who has responded to my last post or to me in person or email with hugs, condolences, love and sympathy. I care very much for you all and deeply appreciate the thoughts. I intend to respond to everyone, but it's taking most of my energy just to hold it together at the moment.

I've gone to work the last couple of days in a conscious effort to keep myself around people. My office is full of stressed out people with far too much on their plates, but somehow we all find the time to care for each other when the proverbial hits the fan. Nobody minds if I need to go for a walk for a little while or just shut myself off with a cup of tea. With the help of my colleagues I've worked out that because this year has been so very crappy, next year I should be owed a million bucks and a Swedish masseuse boyfriend. And a pony.

(And yes, it would be preferable if the Swedish masseuse could show up riding the pony, which for the purposes of that fantasy will be known as 'the white steed'.)

The funeral is arranged for next Tuesday. I'll be flying up to Sydney for the day and coming straight back; I'd arranged to take some leave at the end of the month for a visit anyway. In some ways I think that will be better for all of us - Mum, Sarah and I will all have the space to process things a bit before coming together.

Speaking of family, my mother was tossing up whether or not she should contact my half sister (Dad's other daughter) to let her know. The last time they'd spoken was several years ago when Dad was really sick and it looked like he might die. Her response then was "I don't want to know anything more about him, even if he dies." I've no idea why. My bad experiences with Dad were very specific to being a disabled kid with a father who thought he could heal anyone.

So Mum was really torn about calling her. I suggested that whatever was said several years ago, she should at least know so she could tell her children and my half brother. When Mum rang my half sister said she was so glad Mum had called. Moreover, she said she wants to have contact with Sarah and I, and to know about us. I really hope this happens. She could fill in so many gaps about my Dad. I've never met anyone from his side of the family, and it feels like I have a very lopsided family tree. It would also be nice to know if there are other people out there who look like me. I'm very much my mother's daughter, but most of my physical appearance is from Dad's side. I'm not pinning too much on it, though - she may change her mind. It seems almost like too big a gift to come out of this.

As for how I'm feeling... well, it varies. I'm more familiar with grief than most twenty-eight year olds. I know it comes and goes and you can't predict two minutes ahead. Losing my hearing was so hard in part because I thought I should feel the one thing all the way through. After losing Jim nearly two years ago I already feel like I know what losing a father can mean in some small sense. I'm really just marking time until the funeral, when hopefully some doors will finally close.
crypticgirl: (Default)
( Sep. 2nd, 2008 07:54 pm)
My mother just rang to tell me that my Dad died this afternoon. He was 93 and we hadn't really had a relationship to speak of since I finished school ten years ago, but this is a shock nonetheless.


crypticgirl: (Default)


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