compare and contrast.

a friend of mine told me that a classmate/friend of his collapsed for an unknown reason, fell into a coma, and died this week.

he also told me that he can understand a tenth of how i felt when dad died.

people die every day and some people experience death more than others. and some people experience the unexpected and tragic deaths more than others. i'm not sure where i really fall on the continuum of death, but i find that i kowtow to the unexpected and tragic more than i could ever wish for.

three deaths preceded the one that instilled tremors in my heart. in hindsight, i'm glad i experienced her death before my dad's. it prepared me for dad.

there is something surreal about seeing someone a month before, talking to her three days before, and then reading an article describing her murder the day after her death.

it's also something different to experience that death all alone. and to experience that emotional pain that you weren't ever quite sure you had ever experienced. in a way it's how people describe love. that you don't ever really know it until you have it (and perhaps lost it).

she was one of my best and oldest friends, someone i had known since childhood. her death created a chasm in my life and catalyzed significant changes in my world view, religious outlook, and the way i lived my life.

and while that was tragic and painful, it compares little to what it was to lose a parent. that pain ran so deep and was so thorough, i felt steeped in loss.

five months later, i'm still floundering in loss. i forget about it, i push it away, i refuse to acknowledge it.

and at times, i'm drowning in it. barely afloat. water in the lungs.

and then i remember. walking into that room and seeing a mound of body on a table. what was supposed to be dad and just couldn't be dad. grey skin, waxy and thick. mom's screams behind me, choking on her own spit and suffocating in grief.

until i manage to push it away.

coming to terms with fact

this is just a sad blog. i only really write when i'm perplexed, angry or sad about something. a fiery emotion.

so what is it this time?

it's the 24th. dad died five months ago on the 22nd.

and i forgot to remember the 22nd.

it hurts my heart, how quickly i can forget.

though perhaps in other ways i did not forget entirely. this entire week i've felt this incredibly need to get out in nature and backpack my little heart out. i didn't really think as to why i needed it so badly this week.

so on the 23rd, i busted out 23 miles through johnson's pass and it felt incredible.

i wanted to do more, but circumstances didn't let that happen. damn you circumstances.

dear dad, i love you and i'm sorry i forgot.

five months and two days.

fever

i feel restless.

a tempting tingle.

a psychotic itch. a deep internal fever.

the one that always kept me moving from place to place.

[i feel that i've been here too long but haven't had long enough. goddamn, i love and hate this place all at once.]

i've realized that the last few months, i've glided through life.

i gave up at some point. decided that nothing or perhaps very little mattered. settled for what was right in front of me. for what i felt was my responsibility and my sacrifice.

i need to learn to ask for help.

but i have this thing. this january thing.

in some ways it's this huge fearful and mysterious thing. and in other ways it's this beacon of hope that my life can be my own again.

can i do it? will i like it? will i succeed? or will i fail miserably, tuck my tail between my legs and crawl back home to what is safe and secure (and frustrating and stressful)?

i'm tired of the lack of challenge. the ease of living day by day. the waiting.

i am impatient. waiting at the gate for the start. straining against those things that are holding me back.