6-4 #2 - letter to dave
11:19 p.m. - 06.04.03
dave's aunt's bpyfirend dies at 53 due to liver cancer hepetitis - code for drinking too much. this is the first time anyone has died in his family in his adult life. his dad died when he was very very young.
we talked for over an hour today, catching up on films and our work (he's a cinematographer).
this is part of the letter that i sent to him after our phone conversation:
6.4.03
just to let you know - you are going to be alright. strength and resilliiance are prominent qualities in you. sometimes these things, such as death, have positive effects, though it may take a while for them to surface. thet is why we all just have to surrender, go to sleep, and wake up the next day. it's called learning, it's called process, it's called life. we are all supposed to experience death and berevement. if one doesn't, then they have not opened themselves to the gift of vulnerability and love.
it was great to talk with you today. as i have said before, if you need to talk about it again (whether it's about the death itself, your family, or your thoughts about your own mortal future) i'm here -- anytime.
i have personally and intentionally set today and tomorrow as personal rememberance days on my father's death. some may say (especially my brother, matt, and maybe mom) that my self imposed anneversary is pointless, and full of self pity -- i should just move on ...
but, i want to remember this. i only have fleeting memories of dad when i was a kid. old memories confuse you - at the present day you don't know if everything happened just as you remembered it. as memories fade, they almost turn into dream-states, to where you are uncertain whether they really happened at all.
i don't want that to happen regarding the last time i saw him. it was so wierd and dream-like when everything was happening, when i walked up to the hospital bed .... i just don't want to forget that. Jesus, it was the first time and last time i saw him in 20 years. his hands still looked the same and still smelled the same and still felt the same. i just don't ever want to forget that.
two weeks after it happened, i wanted to forget the whole thing. three years later, i am afraid that i'm starting to forget, and it is turning into a dream.
it was a turning point in my life. i knew it as i got the phone call form mom at 10 p.m. i knew it when i was driving to the hospital. i couldn't even play any of my tapes that i love to drive and think with. i couldn't find a proper radio station. it was one of the few times i drove without music or NPR. i just kept driving and telling myself "this is really happening." i drove in silence trying to think of every moment that i had with him - good or horrifying. i tried to live my entire life before i parked. i knew it as the three of us all pulled into metro hospital's garage at the same exact time time (matt was at a friends house) and parked next to each other. i knew it as soon as i walked into the room and heard the beeps from all the machines.
i had time alone with him. i held his hand and kissed it and smelled it. then, i spit in his face. it was a bullseye right on his lips. it was the only time where i did something hwere in another place and time i would have one a giant teddy bear. i needed to do both and i never want to forget each of those separate feelings when i did them in a split second.
when i lift my grandma's rolls of fat to dry her off and wipe between her toes i am ashamed that i hate doing it. it totally grosses me out, and hurts me that she has to rely on someone like me who is not excited to do it; but i am afraid of her dying and not having to do that for her anymore. does that sound weird?
i'm very afraid of grandma dying. i'm afraid that it will throw me into another depression. but, i just have to deal with it when it comes.
again, i hope you are ok.
6-4 #2 - letter to dave - 06.04.03
a>