Grief is more clear — life is grey. In grief I was closer to him. Closer to the elemental truth of life.
I pulled from old programming– on survival. What must i do to survive this moment. I’ve created a circle of numbness. I’ve read every book, hundreds, – to the e point that i have none left. My body feels broken– I hurt my foot and have been limping from bed to couch. My foot the most honest reflection of my soul.
I feel broken. At least I can see it. A gift, I guess. To recognize the circle of apathy, boredom, disappointment, denial , complacency, faithlessness, that we all surround ourselves in, to feel less, to be less, to cope.
It is a gloom a cloud over our house, over my mind, a storm
My father stopped speaking to me because I stopped speaking to myself. I have literally, stopped time. the monotony, and magic is huge. The only difference is that my hair looks longer every day.
With every love letter i write, i find more truth i must share.
I am in shock. ?
The memory that has followed me, is that of me years ago. 5 years ago.
I would sleep too much, I was uninspired at work, I had just graduated, I would be doing data entry and I thought that if i had to do this for my whole life, the it wouldn’t be worth living. I was just beginning to feel that my thoughts had merit, that my point of view was strong/needed– but it would flair, highs and deep lows.
My dad watched over me. HE watched over my sleep. HE would wake me up only if it was getting close to when my mom would come home from work, at five PM. Because he didn’t want her to know that I had slept the whole day. He protected my choices and my pain. I didn’t realize then, but he must have understood that agony of being aware that life is meant to be more, but feeling unworthy of reaching for it. he was the guardian of my actions, he always respected them; he never criticized them. If anything he lightly teased, he would make them sound humorous. He would tell me aunt’s that dani is ‘threatening to work’ ‘amenazando’. It was so witty, and so perfect, I was threatening to to live a life that was tedious, but i never did. I never committed- and he reflected all of his love and encouragement, and faith in me- always. — . Though he did worry.
On the moments I was high and learning from the universe’s experiences. I would smile, a smile as old as time. I smiled with certainty. I knew that universe loved me, that i was her magic daughter, game changer, coyote, picara, that she moved through me and that i was wise enough to be grateful , to the eyes in which i saw the world. And in those moments, I would hope and pray so passionately, that I wouldn’t have to grow old to know happiness. That I could live without regrets. That i could live my life’s purpose and enjoy it. I think i would sleep– like sleeping beauty, an enchanted sleep, that i felt restored me, held life at bay, to make me strong enough to face life with the values I felt were important, like compassion and empathy.
My dad would walk in and out of the house, always showered, with his beautiful cologne, going to meet with his friends, watch a soccer game, talk business. HE would always tell me when he was going and would always announce his return. As if anyone could ever bang through the living room door and jingle his keys like he did. He’d try to get he dogs to stop barking when the gardener came, so i could sleep, I would inevitably always wake up, walk out to pee, in my underwear, with him sitting in the light, watching a game, with the dogs, and would tell em to go sleep in his room, so the noise wouldn’t bother me. It was if he waited all day just to smile at me and laugh at my face. So he could hear me say, “i lvoe you daddy, gracias”
IT was his ritual. He loved that i was home with him, even though i spent so much of it asleep.
I get cut up now– because one of the last memories of him at home, and alive, and hopeful, was me coming to sleep by him, that i separated myself from my life’s pain, and joined him in his, his room. and I held him and got him to sleep without vomiting, I rubbed his face, and he woke up and was so happy i Was there. And it was like we were able to undo years of self-imposed separation. Where I thought i was alone. And he was a young man again, and I was his baby and we took a nap. We undid all our mistakes
I was able to watch over him as we both slept, a communion/ a closing circle of what had been.
I see my joy and my face smiling smugly, confidently, that i knew the secret to living, that when you pray, pray for the universe to give you what it knows is best, what it plans, pray that you are open to what she will bring, it was my wisdom, i think i was born with it– it had always worked and had lead me so far from those days five years ago when I didn’t think it mattered if i got out of bed at all– it was that ardent prayer that moved me. I remember thinking that i was so blessed, almost untouchable. I remember confidently telling the universe to mold me into what it wanted, that i was strong enough, brave enough to live with a purpose.
I see myself now, crying on the couch, having learned the magic of stagnation, and feel like i called in the wind of my own changing, and that the results are a house without one man. that i may not be strong enough, that the sacrifice was too great, that that as not what i wanted.
Its a story of blood, and bodies– not of souls, its a story of emotion. of feelings that explain overwhelming wave of loss.
I guess- its the story i had to tell.
That when i shouted at the universe, that quality mattered more then quantity, and that when i read harry potter, and knew that souls were untouchable and forever– i didn’t realize that i would be living with the reflection of all of my beliefs so soon., so quickly.
I guess you never step into the vision– you make it everyday, with the whittling away of delusion of safety, and innocence– life rushes through me now, leaving me with my choices and the question: what will i make of this life I’ve created?