I remember the night that Dad died, when I went to bed. It was a relief to get away from everyone and have some time to grieve alone, though it was comforting to know they were all close by. All the crying I'd done combined with the cold I already had made my nose all stuffy and runny, my eyes puffy and sore, my face and lips swollen. My head was stuffed with cotton wool.
It wasn't my bed, it was Nat's. Did I wish it had been my own bed? Did I think about Mum, Nan and Pa, alone in Dad's house? Or especially Mum, alone in a bed she'd shared with him for over twenty years, knowing he'd never fill it again? I think I might have, but I don't remember.
I wore the leather Harley Davidson necklet and pendant he gave me, and kept hold of it with one hand all night. I kept waking up to blow my nose and I used up heaps of tissues.
What did I think about when I woke so many times? I honestly can't remember. Did I really sleep at all? I don't know. But when I did get up the next morning, there was snot all over the pillow and I felt like I'd cried all night. Perhaps I did.
I couldn't eat breakfast, just sipped at a cup of tea. And packed, to go back to Mum's. Didn't want to, not under the circumstances, but I knew I had to. So I did.
It was awful seeing Nan, Pa and Mum. I couldn't wait to escape to my room. Rebecca C was there. She didn't try to make me talk. That was good. I just unpacked my stuff.
We went for a walk to the shops to get some medicine for my cold. I remember we saw Mrs G drive past and I felt like telling her "My Dad died." I wanted to tell everyone. Why? Not to get sympathy. Maybe telling people would make it more real for me. I don't know.
Back at home, I tried to sit with Mum, but she didn't want me to. I didn't understand then why she was pushing me away. I do now, and it's okay. There were others there for me. She needed to be alone.
I remember the constant bells - the telephone, and the doorbell - flowers, telegrams, visitors. I wish now they'd let Mum have more time to herself. She probably needed it. Rebecca C and I watched tv in my room and I fell asleep but could still hear the ringing and voices. Was I sleeping because I was tired, or because I needed to escape for a while? I can't remember.
I remember Phil and Lorraine arriving and I was relieved. I let them take over the task of comforting Mum. Well, I'd tried anyway, but she wouldn't really let me. Also, they gave me the physical affection that Mum couldn't give at the time.
I remember going into the study to get something a few days later and seeing the plastic garbage bag on the floor, the one they'd sent home from the hospital with Dad's uniform and stuff in it. I looked in it and I could still smell him and felt sad and peaceful at the same time. When I was about to leave, Mum came in and told me not to touch anything, and I got angry because I wasn't doing anything wrong, not changing anything, and I snapped at her because he was my Dad and I had a right to be in there. Uncle Phil came in and we all hugged and cried and I hated it because I'd wanted to be alone in Dad's presence and felt they'd wrecked it.
I remember Mark S ringing me up and asking how my day was. He said he'd had a really bad day too because his Mum had woken him up early to do heaps of jobs. I thought "You insensitive prick, there is just no comparison!"
- circa 1996 (aged 20)
Monday, April 26, 2010
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