Dearest Rachel –
So, the last couple of days, have been… well, I wouldn’t say a flurry of activity, necessarily, but busy enough that I haven’t had the chance to determine what, if anything, is really different about life before and after Daniel and I left.
Oh, there are the obvious things, of course; when I showed up at the folks’ place on Tuesday, the family room was empty – the chairs that had been moved out to make way for Dad’s bed hadn’t been moved back in, but the bed itself was gone, save for the footprints it left in the carpet (then again, there were indentations from some of the chairs still remaining, too, so we know where to put them). Meanwhile, Jenn has been over to look for photos to display for the visitation and funeral – and we still have to order the casket spray, although we know that Dad was fairly insistent that flowers be kept to a minimum, and monies either go to church or the camp he served at back in the day. And the basement is, according to Mom, a ‘mess,’ although after living with you, I don’t see it; sure, there are a pile of his old books on various tables that weren’t there before, but it’s not like it’s blocking the passage to my ‘office’ nook or anything.
And there’s where the whole difference ends; this is the waters’ edge of this supposed tsunami of change. Because once I sit down at the keyboard, the task in front of me is no different than the one I left behind a little more than three weeks ago; moreover, the process to deal with it is the same as it has been for months (although admittedly, I say ‘months’ rather than ‘years’ because there have been recent procedural changes in the system, but those are software modifications, nothing truly fundamental). For all that things have irrevocably changed, and I know it, life goes on much the same way as it has – and I wonder what it is that I’m not seeing. Shouldn’t there be more to this than this?
The ‘work’ day ends, and after checking with Mom to see if there’s anything she needs (there hasn’t been for the last couple of days), I let Daniel know I’m heading out, to see if he wants anything. It was usually a fifty-fifty chance that I would go shopping on my way home from the ‘office’ back before Dad’s departure – there’s always some little thing we don’t have around the house, like fruit or bread or juice, and even more so after being away from home for as long as we have – and I usually offer to grab something for an early dinner if he’s interesting in something. Thus far, we’ve done that both times since getting home, but between our own disinterest in cooking and cleanup and our having gotten accustomed to restaurant-quality cooking over the last three weeks, that’s not surprising.
So I bring everything home, put what groceries I’ve gotten away, and distribute Daniel’s meal to him, and retreat to the bedroom with my own, as he’s back with Logan in the family room watching stuff together (and I’ve no place in that – I might enjoy what they’re watching, but once the parent participates in what they’re interested in, it becomes uncool). And this goes on until just about nine, when Logan makes a point of retreating to his room, since his work day starts at seven every morning but Friday, at which point, Daniel joins me to continue his evening (regardless of whether I’m wanting to wind down or not; thus far, I sometimes would rather call it a day myself, but for his sake, decide to stay up at least until ten-thirty, as was our custom back in the day. I mean, I have ‘work’ to attend to myself, too; it’s just that I not have a boss to report to or a paycheck to earn).
Last night, as we were doing this, I looked over at Daniel, and realized he’d nodded off during the video – and I’d have to restart again it once he woke up. At this point, I generally pause the video – no point letting in run when he’s not watching – and take care of other business; maybe delve into whatever’s in my own newsfeed that I haven’t bothered with on my own previously, or start in on the letter I might send you this morning. And as I was starting in on the latter, and coming up with a topic, it crossed my mind that life was going on more normally than I had any right to expect.
We’ve just suffered another loss; the man whose wisdom I’ve relied on for the entirety of my life is gone. And yet, the individual days don’t seem all that much different from how they have been. Oh, I’m not spending an hour upstairs chatting with him before heading down to the ‘office’ – although I’m still talking with Mom for a few minutes before and after my ‘work’ day – but otherwise, the days feel a lot like they used to, especially in comparison to those aboard ship. They should be much more different than this, but they aren’t… and I don’t know what to make of it.
Now, to be fair, once I’m back home, there isn’t any sense of his presence in which to feel an absence. He rarely set foot in here – mostly because it was too cluttered to invite them over to see the place, even in your opinion. So maybe that’s part of it; since so much of my life didn’t include him, his departure doesn’t hit as hard as yours did. And maybe that’s the thing; once I’ve had to survive your departure, everything else – even the loss of a man who’s supported me through twice the amount of time that you were there – can be sailed past with barely a ripple.
But there’s something that bothers me about the smoothness of the waters, somehow. I feel like I’m missing something that should leave me that much more broken by this. It’s as if the fact that this doesn’t affect me like it should means I’m that much more damaged than I know – because I’ve already been living like this for so long that nothing bothers me anymore. Maybe, as Satan says of Job after the first set of disasters, it’s a matter of “skin for skin”; if it’s not happening to me personally, it doesn’t truly affect me (which doesn’t speak well for me, now, does it?). Then again, one must consider the source of that accusation…
And as always, I have so many more questions than answers – and one less person to ask about it, although these wouldn’t come up until he was to depart anyway, so it’s not as if he’d have had any opportunity to address them, regardless. So until I can get those answers, I’d appreciate it if you’d continue to keep an eye on me, and wish me well. I’m going to need it.
Letters to Rachel 