Futile Horn

04.21.2003 - 12:13 am (the vacuum)

Heh. My grandfather died on Friday, so the last few days have been kinda terrible. I haven't really done much of anything since then, which has been making me edgy. I've tried watching movies or reading or a book, but I won't sit still for it. The wake is tomorrow, which I am dreading because in addition to the obvious reason, it's been raising a flag for a steadily sharpening social aversion I've been developing. A few of my friends dropped by on Saturday, and I realized I hadn't spoken even to any of them in over a month. The idea of having to speak to family members I haven't seen in a while has been a cause of accumulating stress over the weekend.

Also my sister and I were talking today about what we can do about our mom. The last few months she's been preoccupied with grandpa, and now there's going to be a vacuum. First we need to get her to lay down and go to sleep, because she hasn't really had any in a while, and then we'll have to come up with something for her to do. It's difficult because we've never really figured out her hobbies. And often enough when she does find something recreational to do, she goes at it as if it is some kind of chore. For instance, my sister once encouraged her to read the Harry Potter series, and she read them all in a very short period of time, almost more with a sense of obligation that enthusiasm.

Then there are just the sad things. His living room has a huge window facing the street. On one of the last days he was at home, he was sitting in his chair looking out, and he complained to me he was cold. So I went into his closet and got him a jacket, but he had already fallen asleep by the time I got back. I left the jacket there, and every time I've been there since he died, it's still lying there in his chair. The whole place is full of stuff that makes me remember stuff that I don't feel up to remembering yet, and for some reason that jacket bothers me more than anything else.

Growing up I spent more time with him than with my own father. As I got older the things in our universes become more and more alien to each other. As he got sicker I began to feel more and more helpless around him. I'm trying to avoid letting my head play a game of what could I have done differently.

I'm emotionally retarded. It takes me days or even weeks to respond to things that most people react to upfront. By that point I don't know what to do about it anymore. I certainly don't know how to express myself to other people. For me, it just becomes something I have to work for myself on my own.

Born to play the funky céilí,
Futile Horn