On the Death of my Father

Bearded Stoner

My father died Saturday night, or early Easter morning. Heart attack. He was a man of impulse and appetites. Between the raging volcano of anger and violence that covered my youth in ash and the weathered old mountain my daughter climbed to reach the wind chimes, he was a lot of things.

I don’t know how I feel. I see the whole event receding from me, on some distant coast I can’t reach, where other sons mourn other fathers. I’m not one of them, and people who love their fathers unconditionally won’t understand. I’m sad, yes. But also indifferent. Relieved. And extremely guilty about not feeling how I’m supposed to feel. How other people would feel. Normal people.

My father loved me, his oldest son. He’d been sorry and I’d forgiven him. Mostly. I remember too much; I believe too much in the power our pasts hold over our futures…

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About Grimalkin, RN

Trying really hard to be a decent person. Registered Nurse. Intersectional Feminism. Poet. Cat. Political. Original recipes. Original Stories. Occasionally Questionable Judgement. Creator of #cookingwithjoanne and #stopcock. Soulless Unwashed Carrot. This blog is dedicated to my grandmother, my beloved cat Grimalkin, and my patients.

Posted on April 22, 2014, in Uncategorized. Bookmark the permalink. Comments Off on On the Death of my Father.

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