Since I began this blog seven or eight years ago, I have posted a new
''bit'' every Monday. Until the last few weeks that is. Though some
may suggest that the possibility that I could run out of things to say,
stories to tell, or just prattle on is near impossible, alas, the impossible
has become possible.
Two weeks ago my father died.
Some may prefer to use the terms ''slipped away, ''passed on'', ''crossed over'',
or some other fancy euphemisms for ''died'', but for me the word died works fine.
He was buried last Friday at a small funeral attended by his closest and
dearest. There was music, a lot of flowers, a slide show and some very
thoughtful and sincere speeches.
Standing outside the chapel and watching the hearse drive away,
a friend of the family came up to me, put his arms around me and
asked: How do you feel?
Feel? Good question. What was I feeling?
I had no clue, but I needed to answer so I took the easy way out and
answered: Sad.
My father's death was not un-expected, nor was it gentle, nay,
rather the opposite. According to the doctors and nurses who
looked after him through his last four weeks, my
father was angry and adversarial until his very last breath.
''Rage, rage against the dying of the light...'' Dylan Thomas penned
years ago and my father obviously heeded those words.
Before my father's body was transferred to the morgue my family
was given the opportunity to say a last farewell.
My last visits with my father (when he was still alive) had been very difficult.
Though barely more than skin and bones, he was still able
to yell insults at me and order me about.
The nurses and my mother tried to comfort me by telling me:
''Don't take it to heart what he says, he doesn't really mean it.''
(I tried to heed their words, but I didn't always succeed.)
Nonetheless, I did decide to say a last goodbye.
Arms around each other's shoulders, my mother and I entered
my father's room for the last time. The room was still, peaceful,
and softly lit by a few rays of sunlight forcing their way through the almost
drawn blinds.
My father looked at peace. Gone was the anger, pain and fear.
I placed my hand on his forehead and said a few soothing words.
After arrangements had been organized with the staff, I left the hospital.
Driving home from the hospital I tried to decipher my feelings.
I felt tired, my eyes were smarting, I felt as if I had a lump in my throat,
but mostly, I felt bewildered and numb.
Now, a week since the funeral, I am still struggling with getting
to the core of what I am feeling. Feelings, it seems to me,
can be extremely confounding and perplex.
(Much like a Rubik's cube my mind keeps twisting and
turning, trying to line up the colors(feelings) so I can
name them.
Yellow= melancholy, blue=sadness, red=anger,
and so on.
However, there are supposedly 43 quintillion possible
configurations on a Rubik's cube which leads me to wonder:
Is it the same with feelings?)
Is it possible to experience feelings without actually being
able to give them a ''proper'' name?
Like: I feel like a matchbox floating on the open
ocean, or I feel like a soggy log in a roaring fire, or I feel like pearl in
an oyster shell, or I feel like a car with no brakes, or I feel like
an open wound, or I feel like a blade of grass trying to push
my way through newly laid asphalt, or I feel
like a nebulous cloud, etc. etc.........
How am I feeling?
The question seems to have become a bit of
a conundrum for me. Knowing just how large the
list of ''feeling'' words is and having used many of them
on many occasions, this perplexes me.
Is it perhaps possible to become ''verbally constipated''?
(As in; trying as hard as you can, you just can't find any words
that properly defines/describes/identifies what you are feeling.)
The closest I seem to be able to describe what I am feeling is:
I feel like: the Second movement of Rachmaninov's Piano
Concerto in C Minor, I feel like: ''Blue in Green'' by Miles Davis,
I feel like: ''Almost Blue'' with Chet Baker and Bill Evans.
Often we simplify or perhaps one could say condense complex
feelings in to ''easy access'' terms: I feel sad, I feel happy, I feel good,
I feel bad, I feel lonely, I feel scared, I feel safe, etc. etc.
In my experience however, useful as those terms are, they can
also be quite limiting.
When my brother died I felt as if the sun
was never going to come out again.
When my closest friend died I felt as if
a corner of my heart was gone forever.
When my best friend died I felt as if
flowers lost their fragrance, music lost
its purpose and words lost their meaning.
How do I feel at the death of my father?
I feel like: the Second movement of Rachmaninov's Piano
Concerto in C Minor, I feel like: ''Blue in Green'' by Miles Davis,
I feel like: ''Almost Blue'' with Chet Baker and Bill Evans.
about the painting: acrylic on large canvas
(for the purpose of the blog I added a little bit
of editing in photoshop for the frame and text.)
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