Welcome to the Rollercoaster of Shock and Grief
Me and Dad at my wedding on Halloween, 2008.
“Hey Mom! How’s it going?” I asked, as I promptly answered the phone, surprised to get the call.
“Well, not so good… He’s dead.”
Enter profound shock and grief.
It was a month ago today that he died. This has been the hardest thing I have ever endured.
I’m still shocked! I can’t believe he’s gone. He should’ve been around 10 more years!
He and mom were supposed to come up here to the PNW to spend two weeks in this beautiful climate. We were gonna complain about how he talks too much. We were gonna cook delicious things together!
But he’s gone.
He’s gone and I’ll never see him again. And the way he dies is such a tragedy! I’ll have to talk more about that later. Right now I’m just riding the Rollercoaster of Shock and Grief…
Hi Rebecca. So many questions about this blog . . . it has me thinking “it’s a tease.” 1) who is “he” to you and to your mom? And mentioning “the way he dies” without explaining. I suppose I do that, too, in my own writing. By the way, his photo reminds me of William Shatner — also known as Captain Kirk of the Star Ship Enterprise. And about “talking too much”: I’ve often had internal “conversations” with someone who was in my life for 66 years who talked very much. The last time I spoke with her on the phone, I finally said just a little about that, saying, evenly, “It isn’t easy to listen and listen and listen.” She replied, “Well, I don’t know what else to do.” Another time she explained that she was filling in the silence. Silently, I thought: “What’s wrong with a little silence?” Silence is golden. Silence is peaceful. My ear drums need rest. Non-stop talking is beating my ear drums out of their little minds with constant vibrations.” Other times, I would imagine asking her: “What did you do when you were in school? In church? Watching TV? Listening to the radio? Other times, when feeling especially aggravated, I wondered if she had a talking demon, a demon of talk. And then thought, That would explain why it was that, even days and weeks and months after listening to that non-stop talking, I was still tormented by it — as if I had been mentally/spiritually infected by the non-stop-talking spirit that I had listened to and suffered while visiting her or listening to her on the phone. I understand that some might say to me, “Well, it’s your own fault. Why did you listen? Why didn’t you say something? Why didn’t you walk away? Why didn’t you just put down the phone and walk away? Maybe I’m still a young soul without much experience with human life. Maybe some folks have been around many times in life, while others are here on earth for the first time. Or, maybe, our heavenly Father wanted me to suffer it. There is much in the Bible and in the New Testament about suffering.
Is that you in the photo beside the mysterious “he”?
The first time I saw your initials RDLT, I thought of a singer from the ’70s. I’d hear his name when the DJ on the radio would introduce his song: “Indiana Wants Me.” Maybe I don’t have 20/20 hearing. I often don’t hear things on radio correctly. It sounded like R.D. Taylor to me. I respect that you’re married, Rebecca. God bless you and your husband and your marriage. I like your writing. I find that it is something I want to reply to.
Hey Mark, you make a good point, but I’m just not ready to talk more about it in detail yet. It really is a tragedy how he died. I’ll say it here since you asked – he drank himself to death. It’s so insanely sad. And I have a lot to say about it, but it takes time and I want to make sure I’m not yapping too much too soon. Grief can have that effect.
And I agree with you regarding William Shatner – he does resemble him. And yes, dad talked like an incessant radio. But I miss that radio now…
Hi Rebecca. My mom’s dad had a drinking issue, too. I only met him once when about 9 years old. He was living in a retirement home of some kind. We went there on a Sunday afternoon. He talked with my mom, his youngest daughter. And I just stood there and listened. Don’t recall that he said anything to me. He didn’t know me. My grandmother told me more about him than my mom ever did. My grandmother was very kindly to me and gentle in her speech. I tried cigarettes when I was young; but, thankfully, it didn’t appeal to me. And, I tried drinking, too; but, it seemed alcohol made me nervous; so, I didn’t “go for” that, either. In the picture above, your dad appears to be in the apparel of a monk. And, if that is you beside him, with a kind of ornament on your head, I wonder if the photo was taken at a theatrical performance, maybe? You have my sympathy, Rebecca, concerning the passing of your dad.
Changing the subject, now: I had no more Jiffy corn muffin mix; so, I “freelanced” and just used some Quaker oats and King Arthur gluten-free flour, an egg, olive oil, a dash of salt and baking powder and milk and about 1 tablespoon of sugar– and it came out perfect. I use these tiny loaf pans when making muffins, instead of a muffin pan. Wishing you a peaceful day, today, Rebecca.
Hi Rebecca, it was only after posting my comment above this one that I saw the text under the photo of you and your dad — for the first time. I don’t understand why I didn’t see those words the first few times I looked at the picture. Maybe my 67-year-old brain is losing its faculties. So, now I understand from the text under the picture — and from your reply, that he is your dad and that the occasion was your wedding. I felt kind of dumb for asking if the event was a theatrical performance. Please except my sincerest apology. Interesting day to be married: Halloween. And 2008 was the year I moved into my current home, [apt.] on January 23rd with my cat, Charcoal.
No worries, Mark! Actually, When you posted the first comment, I realized that I needed to add a caption to the pic so I added that right before I replied to your first comment. So it *wasn’t* there at first. 🙂