I know I've said this before, but I really have NO idea how I'm going to react at any given moment, about my dad's death.
His birthday was Aug 8th and I kinda felt like things were under control. Then I was at PPD (puppy play date) and a moment happened. The sky pulled open and rays of morning sunshine dropped down. It was like a painted illustration in a kids bible. That background from every Catholic trading card, with the saint in the foreground.
I thought about my dad. Did he have the kinda pull that he could whip up a sign like that? Is that reserved for folks that have been up there for some time, or just the divine one himself/herself. No matter...my throat did that all too familar thing these days and clamped down. The sting of salt water spilling over my tearducts. There I was in a field with a dozen dogs and all their owners, my emotions going AWOL on me.
My theory was to keep busy on his birthday. I had a long enough 'honey do' list to accomplish that. Next was to work out: great! Suited up and headed to the basement, thumping workout music on my iPod at the ready. After my stretch, I cranked up the tunes and hopped on the treadmill.
10 minutes in, P!nk in my ears, her emotions raw through her music:
Where did you go?
Where did you go?
How did you know to get out of a world gone mad?
Help me let go
Of the chaos around me
The devil that hounds me
I need you to tell me
Child be still
It crippled me! Sobbing, heaving sobs, rattling the ribs in my chest. Burning the tissue in my throat. Feeling the weakness of exerting the energy it takes to uncork that bottle and let the emotions spill out on the ground, like red wine on a white carpet...a shock to my system.
Off went the treadmil, before I fell off it. I took a moment on the weightbench, trying to get myself together long enough to get back to life. No breaks...breaks leave opening to think. Thinking leads to tears.
Keep Moving!
I managed to get through my workout.
On to the next chore. Chain-smoking chores to keep from thinking.
Why does opening up, hurt so much? Aren't you suppose to be rewarded for being open and honest? Yet everytime I throw the iron bars on my heart open, the pain forces it closed again. Like someone entering into the light, after being in the dark. The light is sharp and causes my eyes to ache, so aches my heart.
By the end of the day, I was exhausted. Was I any better off for letting go? I don't know. The saddness doesn't seem any less.
