|
|
I’m kind of surprised when I see people show genuine sympathy.
It is very rare. It is a complex thing. Unless you have actually been a recipient of this misunderstood and small gift, it would be hard to know the difference between genuineness and mere condolence. Ah, the art of condolence. What do you say to your niece when their Dad just died of throat cancer? What do you say to your sister when you Mother just died from Pancreatic cancer? What do you say to your neighbor who just spent a month 1, 0000 miles away watching her Mom die? What do you say to you dear friend whose 18 year old cat and closest friend died suddenly? What do you say to yourself, or anyone else for that matter, when you’ve accepted the fact that you are dying? What do people say to you? What do you say to someone who is recovering from having a bowling ball dropped on her head? What do you say to your Father who has his larynx removed only to find out that the cancer’s gonna kill him anyway? What do you say to him when he stares at you with terror in his eyes? Not of death, but instead of the fear of desertion. The fear of disappointing you. Believing somehow that he had failed. This stare, this expression, gave way to an expression of shock. I believe that he was in a state of shock. The only effortless means of communication taken. In a state of shock and heavily medicated. Reduced to a form of human being that even he couldn’t accept. Yet he possessed this resolve that martyred…could be revered among saints… Could die with no physical ability to show dignity or the desire to remain and fight. The fight he was willing to put up against the unfairness surprise ending Dastardly astounding frightening thankless cruel horrific fucking… fruitless tortuous heartbreaking fiendish depriving unjust unbelievable terrifying unfair bile-tasting MORTIFYING unjustifiable unforgivable It was unacceptable. To him and to me. He fought. For three weeks on saline and morphine alone. He wasn't ready, he didn't know what to do about this one though.. Coming from an almost classic case co-dependent family, this was devastating. Our whole system was thrown… off. The crutches and defenses and…were not there to cope with a problem like this. My rock. My touchstone, wasn't there, I was floundering in a weightless black void. When my feet t touched the ground I ran I couldn't see This Look at him… If I looked at him. If I did see I would be forced to see this, look at him and be forced to accept it; be forced to believe it; be forced to feel it. I ran. For this I am sorry, but I can forgive myself, even if others don’t. I won’t relive it. I forgive myself because my heart tells me every day how much I loved him. And I know how much he really, really loved me. Thanks Dad. He showed me his whole life with him. Sometimes I think that his untimely death is my punishment, my ultimate consequence for my mistakes. Kind of like, “Who’s gonna save you now?” Sadistically the thing I’ll need saving from is the death of my father the death of my safety childhood When that didn’t work? I was given the gift of gravity. I gave birth. I was forced to take responsibility. I could no longer throw chance to the wind or continue to blind myself with dangerous and destructive choices. I gave birth. I thought I just be OK. My Dad never met his Grandbaby…he would’ve been so proud. Missed each other by about a year. My Mother enjoyed my son so much. He enjoyed her too. We spent as much time as we could. Michigan…NH…to Michigan TO CALIFORNIA…to Seattle to Michigan (we ditched the dad) to NH…to Mom. Mom kept us busy. She missed Dad. All the Holidays. Dad’s absence was like a hole in time. A peripheral rip in the walls of time where I’d think he was there and everything was normal. But when I would look, the spot would be vacant. So many times I turned to ask him a question or to tell him something inconsequential, or to see just what he was doing. My touchstone was gone. My Mom forgave me…for my freak out She helped me as much as she could from NH. She gave me a house in Michigan. She gave me enough and more. We continued our co-dependent tendencies on a different level. Meanwhile I was relieved to hear that the father had, never mind- My Mother had saved me, again… my son was safe, and beautiful. My Mother’s reward was cancer. She died 6 months later. Where is my small wall of denial now? Where is my co-dependent family? Where are my parents because I wasn’t ready for this My son is five, they would both be so proud...I can actually do it... I am still not ready
I can say, "I'm sorry to hear about loss"
I can say, "You will survive this" I can say alot of things. But will you feel the truth behind what I say? I can say, "I too have lost someone close to me." Quote: Dad’s absence was like a hole in time. A peripheral rip in the walls of time where I’d think he was there and everything was normal. But when I would look, the spot would be vacant. So many times I turned to ask him a question or to tell him something inconsequential, or to see just what he was doing. My touchstone was gone. This part was the hardest part about my loss. The comming home to an empty house. The turning to ask a question. The void that was left in my life. There were a few good things that came from my loss, but do they out weigh the bad? As a friend (an e-friend at that) I can say, "I wish I was there to hug you and tell you it will be all right. To give you a sholder to lean on when needed. To just be there."
Sympathy is gross.
I rarely give it for anything and nothing would anger me more than being given sympathy. Just my opinion and my help.
To all those situations I would say get past it cause life is to short to waste time on them as well as saying to face them head on and paint your memory a way to deal with it.
If it helps I have felt a lot of pain in my life and this is the best advice I can give you
Quote: Flip Doubt #2 @Sun, 03-18-07, 05:11PM Sympathy is gross. I rarely give it for anything and nothing would anger me more than being given sympathy. Just my opinion and my help. Then you will appreciate part II
I have read this through a few times now and all I can say is there's not much to say.
We're all gonna die of something. And the timing is rarely convenient.
You say very little.
Just like the time when you stood with your teenage sister and were told that your father expired an hour ago, when you look at her face and see an orphan. And then, you realize that defaults you to orhpan status, too. You will hear "he is in a better place now" and "at least he isn't suffering anymore." "It was his time." Inside you cringe a little bit but you know how awkward they are feeling right now, so you let it go. What you do is break out the Super Nintendo and play Pilotwings like you used to in 1993. You go to work. You take care of your daily tasks, interspersed with grief, until one day you wake up and realize it is okay. You make sure everyone is fed and gets to where they need to be on time and you do things to show the one who is gone the kind of positive impact they had on your life. That's all you can do.
|
Charter
|
Legal
|
Privacy
|
Contribute
|
A Tribute
|
Free Porn
|
Clear Cookies
|
Back to Top
|
RSS
All works © 2001-2010 by their respective authors and Think Attack.com; All Rights Reserved.
Trying to master the monster within...