selva oscura (anonymousblack) wrote,
selva oscura
anonymousblack

temporary residence

in the dream it was a shock again, as it’s always a shock, as it’s never stopped being a shock. because as old as i am, i am never prepared for or willing to accept the non-negotiable and absolute permanence of death. it’s not rebellion, it’s more visceral than that. an intolerance. an allergy. a fatal, fatal allergy. i’ll call p., i thought, who else is ever going to help me sort through p.’s death, i thought, and stopped cold.

it’s like that. stopped cold. stone wall not even rushing up before you slam in. nothing else there. nothing else in the room. there’s the room itself, but what are you going to do in a room without anything to do? not even a window, i mean, not even a door. when i was seven my grandfather died from lung cancer. my parents took me to the funeral. my parents said it was time for me to go to a funeral and look, here is an excellent introductory option. i went to my grandfather's funeral and i thought: this just doesn’t seem very practical. everything we go through and then this, stone wall, open casket, flowers from your former employer? everything we go through and then this, this room without anything to do? you haven’t even figured out everything you need to figure out. you haven’t even put away all your stuff.

when i was seven i thought i’d will myself dead for a few minutes so i could see what it felt like. i laid on my bed and pretended to stop. stone wall. not even rushing up. it wasn’t so bad, i decided. it wasn’t so bad from that side of things, maybe, like this exercise offered any viable insight into any side of things. at first, for a lot of us, death seems like it should be something you can get over. have a good rest. then: wake up. go on about your day. go on about your life. out of the dream, i rolled onto my back and started at the beginning again.

Tags: departures, heartbreak, journal14
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