And So It Goes

I was on my way out of the door after a long day at work and I ran into a colleague heading for the exit same as me. I smiled, said hey, she did the same since we were going in the same direction she walked out the door with me. I could tell she was in a hurry, we probably had the same 'can't wait to leave this place behind' on our faces. I was hoping she didn't ask about dad because we'd talked about my role as caregiver before, and how he was doing, how I was doing, all that stuff, but she did ask. It was too bad she asked because she seemed in too much of a hurry to ask such a big question. Or maybe it was the response I had to give her that was too big, because how was she to know that this time I wouldn't be able to give her a simple 'he's okay' response. Words stuck in my throat as we kept up the pace toward the stop light, which turned green right away, and then we crossed the street and kept our quick step toward respective destinations. I thought about just saying 'he's alright' to move past the awkward moment so we could get to the idle chit chat that fits better when on fast forward but told her instead that he'd passed in August, and I think she said 'oh gosh' and kept that steady pace and I figured she was going toward the parking garage which she was, and we'd part ways soon enough. I knew she understood what I was going through because she indicated her mom had passed a few short years ago right before an important insured's renewal and we talked about how wonderful the people in her department were during such a difficult time and I said pretty much the same about my department. Then she said, "But it's kind of a relief right?" I wanted to reply to be polite, but couldn't. Again, I'm sure my silence made her feel uncomfortable, because I was uncomfortable, and this woman has an extremely kind nature, and I knew she didn't mean it in a bad way. She rushed to say as we reached the garage, "Oh it's hard to know what to say." Her voice seemed to carry a bit of an apology for some thing and I think it may have been because she was obviously in a rush and didn't have time to give it or me her full attention, and then she explained she was at her turn off and had to go. I wished her a good evening in a voice that was cheerier than I felt, hoping to relay that all was good, and that was that. I turned to cross the street and she turned to step in the elevator and I couldn't stop my lips from trembling and my face started to crumble. I wanted to cry again, as always these days, but didn't have time to do it in such a public place. Everything triggers the need.

I don't understand the reference about being relieved. I've had a couple of people make similar comments. I know they probably meant relieved that he was no longer in pain but it seems wrong somehow. I don't feel relief. When dad stopped breathing, I remember feeling sorrow, and so very tired and bleak, but I don't recall feeling relief. I still don't feel that way.

I can't help it but it seems like we're all in such a hurry to move on with some thing that we don't take that minute or two to respect the proces of dying or the finality of it all. We're too good at pretending to be really good at dealing and putting it behind us. Without even knowing we're doing it, we've incorporated the process of impending and final death into a teeny tiny box to be stored way back in that dusty attic that is our mind filled with all the other really bad and emotional stuff we don't want to visit anymore. Why are we in such a hurry? Are we moving forward with life? Or are we running away from the inevitable? The mind numbing fear that one day it'll be our turn.

To be sick. To die.

I don't know. I guess this is just the inane ramblings and color of what mourning looks and sounds like to me.

Sometimes there just aren't any answers. Just a lot of questions.