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My Father Passed Away This Morning


malign

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My brother called me at lunch time to tell me that my father was taken to the Emergency room this morning and died about an hour after my brother arrived. I had visited on Sunday, and Dad seemed pale and tired. At least someone was with him when he died.

Strangely, my brother was present at the passing of both of my parents, and I was at work both times. At least my alibi is secure.

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Thanks, Beth.

It hasn't really hit me yet.

It wasn't unexpected, which reduces the shock, and I had visited Sunday, so there's less guilt for me.

That just leaves me with the part that seems the least real, that he's gone.

Not really sure where to put that.

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No, I'm still here. Dad's two hours away in Richmond, and my brother is there. I asked him if he needed anything ... Interesting how that's the way we express caring.

I'm fairly sure I don't want to see him dead. Whatever that might mean about me.

Thank you for caring, Kent.

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Aw.

{I hope that doesn't mean that I have to be snow-covered ...}

It's a tough thing to choose.

Though one could ask what kind of hubris makes me think it's my choice whether to feel. It's not like I could put my hand down on a hot stove and choose not to notice. Why do we think that's what will is for, when it comes to emotions? Some would say the stiff-upper-lip Victorians started it. So why do we (I) still have it?

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Mark,

I came to your blog to inquire about you and your dad. I was shocked to see your new blog. I quickly wrote some words and I left the site to cry for you. Expected or not, this is sad and I'm sure many thoughts are running through your mind and your heart feels like it has not before.

It is just as you said..."That just leaves me with the part that seems the least real, that he's gone. Not really sure where to put that."

That you will move around until it feels right.

I'm always here to listen to whatever you think and whatever you feel, Mark.

Blessings to you and your family.

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{{{Mark, you don't "need" to learn that.}}} However you feel and show/express it now, tomorrow and all the days ahead...is showing love.

{{{You're a one of a kind, unique extraordinary individual...just as you are.}}}

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I think it's okay to feel whatever you feel or don't feel right now. Be very gentle with you if you can. Everyone has to find their own path. No right or wrong way... your way is what matters...and taking care of yourself along the way.

We care and accept you. It's okay to cry or not cry. I hope you can reach for comfort, however that feels right for you.

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Brrrr. I hate the cold. :-P I'll need a peaked cap, and to post avalanche warnings for when I shake myself.

I love that you know that about grieving, seddy. Many people (including me) are very hard on themselves just because they don't know how they're supposed to work. In all sorts of areas. Our culture teaches all sorts of B.S. that we have to unlearn.

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The Chinese have a practice in which they dig their ancestors' bones back up and celebrate their lives again with a second funeral after a period of several years' mourning.

You can yodel, and I won't mind because mountains don't have ears. :-P

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"Traitor"! :-)

{Which is also what yodeling to make me colder would make you ...}

In what way is yodeling like singing? :-P

Other than the sound coming out of the mouth, I don't see the resemblance.

The Chinese may sound gross, but at least you don't catch them yodeling. :-)

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ahh...tending to others...:)

Death is a line where you are on one side and your father is on the other.

I know you don't like poetry so much, and I thought I'd save a limerick for another day. But, I'm ignoring the poetry thing.

The lonely stream that rode through darkness,

Leaps the gap of light.

It's voice grown loud and starts it's winding journey

Through day and time and war and history.

Edwin Muir, The Wayside Station

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I don't hate poetry. I'm just not good at poetry, either writing it or taking it in. It's not the poetry's fault. My faculty for words makes it all into abstract symbols before I can absorb the life in the poem; that's one way to put it. So I either read it quickly for "content" and wonder what all the fuss is about, or glaze over completely. Some day I'd like to find that middle road. I do much better with sights and sounds.

Tending to life because I don't know how to tend to death at the moment.

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Well, maybe the Chinese yodel all the time, but we just don't catch them at it.

My problem may be that I love words too much, and lose the playfulness of combining them abstractly. Words for me cannot (well, cannot easily) be abstract. I need music, or visual art, for that. Some of my favorite music is inarticulate singing (of which I guess one form is yodeling); a person expressing themselves without words. Pink Floyd's "Brain Damage" comes to ... mind.

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Thank you, friends. :-)

I ended up taking today off, on top of the trip I already had planned for Thursday through Tuesday. There will be some running around, but hopefully also some time to pause and reflect.

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