So my friend asked me today why I wasn't writing lately. And I decided to try. It's Friday, July 25 at 11:42 pm. I had therapy in the am; had to tell her about Dad's death that I still haven't radically or un-radically accepted. It's been almost a week, well, if we say Sat - Fri it has been a week...i haven't talked to B1. or R. still. I have talked to B2 and J is going to be away for 2 weeks - very bad timing. so he's actually coming down next Fri thru Tues. We were supposed to go to Birmingham, AL for a show and Alpharetta the next night, Aug 3. We're selling our birmingham tickets hopefully for face and B2 is coming to his first phish show w me! R. took him to his first one, which if, my memory is correct, means B1 took me to my first Dead show, I took R to his first Phish show and R took B2 to his first phish show. i'm excited! that's a good feeling to have right now, considering I don't feel much of anything these days.
I occasionally feel the stream of wet lines drawing on my face. They make zig zag or wave patterns. Sometimes they're just straight downward. I haven't had a raging crying fit yet, and I don't know why. For the past three and a half years, I have been paralyzed on and off, battled wicked insomnia, cried til only sand was left in my eyes, wondering when the other show will drop, wondering if *this* is going to be the last visit, the last time I see my Dad. I've been nauseous a heap of time, awakened in the middle of the night from knee pain, endured headaches that lay me flat out, terrified that any call from my uncle or brother could be *the* call...or the *other* call, where R is back in the hospital, having more seizures or perhaps he finally did himself in...Perhaps I was ready too. Perhaps I am ready. Ready for the other shoe to drop. Waiting for him to be out of pain and misery.
But ultimately, I don't think I'm processing my father's death. I can't just call him up or text him...yeah, this entry is a lot like earlier posts and I'm assuming that future posts will be similar in context. Can't go for one last visit. I didn't even say goodbye.
