Saturday, July 21, 2007

Dad died this morning

There is a God. He was so sick, and so ready to go, and I was so afraid he'd hang on for weeks more in needless torture. This is--accepting and getting past the inevitabilty of it all, knowing that there was no chance for it to go any other way--a good thing.

I got The Call from my sister about half an hour ago. When there's a terminally ill family member and the phone rings at 6:30 am on a Saturday morning, you don't have to ask what's up.

I was up until 2 this morning, waiting for Em and Baroy to get back from some Harry Potter-related festivities and then getting Em into bed. I suppose that I should refrain from making some bad joke about how I now know who dies in the end, huh? Because that would be inappropriate, and it would make you all uncomfortable, and...Yeah, I know. Too late.

I know there are no 'should's in mourning, but I really wish I felt more like crying. Or at all like crying. A man's death--my father's death--really should be worth a few tears. Maybe they'll come later. Maybe they won't. Maybe I'll mourn in other ways, in my own way.

I also wish I knew more about him so that at some point--not right now, because while I'm not crying, I am too raw to do much in the way of 'real writing'--I could do a bloggish eulogy for him, to tell you all a little bit about him. Maybe at some point I'll dredge up some of the less-painful memories of him to talk about. Maybe I'll just let him rest in peace. Time will, I guess, tell.

Sometimes, on Saturdays, I go to my synagogue to attend Shabbat morning services. This is not something I talk a lot about to people. It seems to weird them out, and rightly so, since I spent approximately 41 years being either neutral or outright anti-religious. And I don't talk about it that much here, either, because I'm not quite sure myself what to make of it. But there you have it. I go, and because I'm not yet comfortable with the idea of doing an aliyah, I usually get called up to dress the Torah--I'm becoming an expert Torah-dresser--which is probably making my mother wonder who the hell this person writing is...

But I digress. Let me start again. Sometimes, on Saturdays, I go to my synagogue to attend Shabbat morning services. I go alone, because Saturday services are no place for boisterous 6-year-olds. When we were at services last night--it was the monthly potluck and one of the two Fridays each month we try to attend as a family when and if possible--I said I'd try to be there. But then it got to be so late last night, and I didn't go to bed, and I was thinking I'd probably just sleep in instead. Until, that is, the phone rang this morning with the news. My first really coherent thought after I hung up? Well, that decides it. Someone needs to go say kaddish for my dad, and that one might as well be me.

Like I said, maybe I'll mourn in my own way.

Yit'gadal v'yit'kadash sh'mei raba...

12 comments:

Debra said...

Im so sorry TC. Im glad his suffering is over and he is finally at peace. Take care and big hugs!

Ambre said...

What she said, and you know- sometimes it's hard to cry. I didn't cry when I found out my grandfather died, yet 9 years later I still miss him so much it hurts. We all grieve in our own way, but we do grieve- just because it's not like they do on tv doesn't mean it's not grief.

Jules said...

I'm so sorry, TC.

Anonymous said...

My condolences, TC. I'm so sorry.

Allison

joannawnyc said...

Very sorry to hear about your father. I didn't cry when my own father died, because it really was a blessing. He was sooooo sick.
I cried a flood when he was diagnosed, though.
Crying's not proof of anything, particular. I still can't discuss losing a parent rationally, 5 years later, so I'm just going to stop now.

MLL said...

I'm so sorry for your loss.....thanks for sharing your thoughts and know that you have many with you in spirit as you grieve.
Marcia

Anonymous said...

Yes, who is this writing?? :-) BUT if you find peace and happiness doing it, then I think it's wonderful!

HUGS and more hugs to help you through this loss.

Mom

jeanie said...

Thoughts with you this morning, TC. I am sure he is in a more peaceful place.

Elizabeth said...

I'm sorry for your loss, but glad that he went without a prolonged horrific dwindling. And yes, the rituals are there because it gives you something to do when you're not sure how you feel and you wonder if you're doing it wrong.

Hilary said...

I type this looking across the hall at a photo of my dad wondering what is it that makes so necessary for some dads to make it so hard (although I know your dad and mine aren't even close to the same in terms of their personal demons), yet to feel such a loss - I see myself in your position in a few years. I'm so sorry - I think I do understand. xxoo

Karyn said...

I'm thinking of you and your family today, TC.

Rich | Championable said...

Condolences and peace, my friend.