(no subject)
grief and i don't get along. apparently, i don't play by the rules. there are certain steps, a "logical" sequence of progression from point a to point getting-on-with-your-life. i wonder if it's blasphemy to renounce that system, because i have, in fact, leapfrogged over the creamy filling.
i am, i suppose, a modern-day emotional heretic.
losing my father hasn't been nearly as difficult as watching my mother lose her husband. and, while i've become her own personal stabilizing juggernaut, there are some places i can't go, some things i can't fix.
for weeks and weeks i've been mired in policy (how strange that we only seem to matter greatly to the government when we no longer exist in this world). i've been a legal aide, a chauffeur, and your friendly neighborhood barista. i've logged hours as a bodyguard, a nurse, and a works-for-pizza personal style consultant.
in other words, i went from 20-something gamer bum to head of this household so fast that i haven't had time to defy the onslaught of docile domesticity so effectively sinking its vile claws into my redneck postmodern soul.
i just want to make things better for her. better, like you have made things for me. i cannot express how much i appreciate you, you beautiful, understanding, supportive people. i have felt the prayers, the love, the embraces you stuffed and shipped in such considerate consolations (i wonder if some people even think before they begin to speak to grieving widows and their emotionally defensive children, or if, for some reason even they cannot understand, they derive some sort of satisfaction from upsetting them further; but you know me...how you know me).
i still feel eyes watching me, wondering if i'll suffer a collapse of some sort -- a breakdown, if you will (no, people, i really can do this, thanks). i want to poke at them with sharp pointy objects until they concede to my mysteriously impenetrable fortitude.
just kidding.
i miss you, daddy.
i am, i suppose, a modern-day emotional heretic.
losing my father hasn't been nearly as difficult as watching my mother lose her husband. and, while i've become her own personal stabilizing juggernaut, there are some places i can't go, some things i can't fix.
for weeks and weeks i've been mired in policy (how strange that we only seem to matter greatly to the government when we no longer exist in this world). i've been a legal aide, a chauffeur, and your friendly neighborhood barista. i've logged hours as a bodyguard, a nurse, and a works-for-pizza personal style consultant.
in other words, i went from 20-something gamer bum to head of this household so fast that i haven't had time to defy the onslaught of docile domesticity so effectively sinking its vile claws into my redneck postmodern soul.
i just want to make things better for her. better, like you have made things for me. i cannot express how much i appreciate you, you beautiful, understanding, supportive people. i have felt the prayers, the love, the embraces you stuffed and shipped in such considerate consolations (i wonder if some people even think before they begin to speak to grieving widows and their emotionally defensive children, or if, for some reason even they cannot understand, they derive some sort of satisfaction from upsetting them further; but you know me...how you know me).
i still feel eyes watching me, wondering if i'll suffer a collapse of some sort -- a breakdown, if you will (no, people, i really can do this, thanks). i want to poke at them with sharp pointy objects until they concede to my mysteriously impenetrable fortitude.
just kidding.
i miss you, daddy.