we soldier on

seeing as how dad’s death will be two months old tomorrow, it seems a fitting time to close this series. i didn’t intend for a series to be produced in the first place; memories and stories and musings kept popping up, and it felt only natural to write about them. i don’t know too many people who’ve witnessed firsthand the death of a close loved one, and as odd and perhaps cruel as it sounds, i felt compelled to expose the rawness and discomfort of such an event. but after discomfort, just like after any storm, there is calm.

but this stillness is not to be misconstrued as a loss of fuel on the subject—in fact, i was just reflecting on dad’s last day this morning on my walk with shaun the dog™. rather, my healing is in a moderate state right now, and i imagine this to be my plateau, my calm, if you will. aside from forgetting dad completely, which would never happen, my emotions have leveled off. i won’t get answers nor have the ability to say anything further to him. dad’s presence isn’t haunting my dreams anymore, and the images i have in my head of his final breath have subdued.

mom is living her life. she’s pretty much buttoned up all the administrative tasks that are attached to losing a significant other. though she has yet to start discarding dad’s old clothes and the mountains of junk he’s accumulated over the years, she’s maintaining the house and the yard as best as she can. she goes to work every day. she’s spending more time with her sisters. emotionally, she is recovering and moving on. she even told me a month ago she was leaving her old life and beginning anew, which, from the sounds of it, involves frequent travel, more than she’s done in the past. she even initiated a recent shopping trip with sissy, an act unheard of before. i’m happy for her. i’m proud of her.

and while mom was off doing responsible things and getting her life in order, me, sissy, and naz did a bit of acting out. we call it self-expression, others may call it reckless disregard for your body. we all got tattoos, and sissy upped the ante by getting her lip pierced. at first, it seemed out of character for me to get a tattoo this late in the game. but at the same time, i’ve been wanting new ink since my first (and only) tattoo i had done when i was 21.

i waited a dozen years to discover art that clearly represented who i am, at this stage in my life. for me, it’s mandatory that the tattoo have meaning before the ink is permanently imprinted into my skin. and when naz showed me an illustration by artist james jean out of L.A., i knew it embodied all the surrealism and bewilderment and the inevitable journey i would pursue since dad left us.

i am that girl; i’d rather not grow up. her maze is my life; truly, a maze is everyone’s life.

mom obviously would never encourage us to go out and get artwork done on our bodies. but she also knows it doesn’t impact who we are as people and wouldn’t disown us for it. she said she never really knew how dad felt about us getting tattoos and piercings. i personally don’t think he’d mind, especially given what my tattoo actually symbolizes. besides, what rules did we have to live by? dad certainly didn’t live life by anyone’s rules but his own.

so dad, my tattoo, my self-expression, my living like i’m always on vacation, my coloring outside of life’s lines—it’s all for you. RIP.

19 August 2010