Thread

We got these little notebooks at lunch today, brought in by another company that my company works for.  I can’t tell how my company and this other company are associated.  I guess I really don’t care.  It probably won’t affect me too much.  At any rate, I’ve got other things to think about.  But I’m just gonna fill up this little notebook with things that have been bothering me.  Or maybe they’re not really bothering me.  Maybe they’re just there, like thread without a needle.

My mom’s just passed and I really haven’t thought about it too much but I’m assuming it’ll all hit me and I’ll break down in one way or another.  I can never tell how a breakdown is gonna take shape anymore.  Sometimes I drink for days to cover it up.  Sometimes I stay in bed and stare at the ceiling and concentrate on the idea of not existing anymore.  I used to cry a lot, but I don’t anymore.  Last month I tried to cry.  Actually sat at the edge of my bed and tried to conjure tears, but nothing would come.  I’ve thought that I should be worried about it, not being able to cry, but I can’t figure out how it’s bad for me, and at any rate, I don’t know what to do about it.  I guess things just aren’t as impactful enough anymore.  At some point I stopped feeling things the way I did when I was a kid.  A few Christmas’s ago I overheard my mom telling her neighbor how emotional I was when I was a child.  Said I would cry at things other kids wouldn’t care much about.  Said I once cried when we found a dead bird in the yard.  The cat must’ve gotten to it.  But it made me cry, I guess.  Who knows.  Who knows when we stop crying.  You’d think that if a bird could make me cry just by leaving the world all the way back when I was a kid, then I’d cry now when mom left the world, all that time having passed from then to now.  All that time knowing each other.  You’d think I’d cry at that, but I didn’t.  Haven’t since she left.

At her funeral I looked at the faces of all the people, the friends, my uncles and even my dad who ended up coming.  Their eyes looked confused, like they were watching something they didn’t quite understand.  Like they knew what was happening but didn’t know why.  As I watched them, the sound of the preacher all static in the background, I had the notion that some of them were forcing themselves to make that look of confusion come into their faces.  As if they were conjuring it like I try to conjure tears.  Maybe it’s that they didn’t feel much and that made them feel guilty so they made thatP1040088 pinched face.  Maybe some were just keeping up appearances.  Even my dad was making that face and to tell you the truth, I didn’t really think he’d care much at all about my mom passing.  But I saw him making the face too and then got sick of watching people so just stared off passed everything and listened to the breeze.  Anyway.

My friend Fidel has been coming over more since mom died.  Guess he feels bad and wants to make sure I’m okay and not lonely. After a few visits, us just sitting in my living room listening to a record or the sound of the street traffic, I told him about how I hadn’t cried since my mom passed away.  I asked him if he thought that was strange and if he thought something was wrong with me.  He said he didn’t suppose anything was wrong with me and that everybody deals with death differently.  At any rate, he still kept stopping by to visit, sometimes drinking a beer with me and watching the sun dim behind the shutters.  Once he brought a few steaks over and I cooked them on the stove while he watched.

Fidel is really the only one who comes over.  Every now and then my aunt calls and we talk for a few minutes about minor things, just insignificant words in order to fill space in the conversation. Fidel being the only one coming over is nothing new.  I haven’t been too connected to many people for a while.  Guess I’m not really sure why.  Guess I just stopped feeling like the relationships I had in the past really added up to much more than a series of niceties.  Not like when you’re young and you can feel some kind of meaning behind things.  Even if nothing’s there it can at least feel like it might be.  We really fake ourselves out when we’re younger.  Maybe that’s why it’s so easy with Fidel.  We probably just see it the same way and don’t care and so we can just sit in a quiet room and feel fine with it.  Just be watchmen I guess. At any rate…..

I was thinking the other day that I had never really considered how I would feel after one of my parents died.  Not that it’s anything profound to have a parent die.  It’s the most predictable thing in the world.   But I never considered whether it would change anything in me.  Now that my mother is gone I’ve been thinking about it and I can’t really say that I have an answer for it at all.  The fact that I haven’t cried may say something about it, but I’m not really sure what it says.  Maybe I don’t care that mother is gone and when I think I feel something it could just be like the faces the people at her funeral where making.  Just a feeling for the feeling’s sake.  Just to put something on inside myself.  But I can’t really tell and I’m not one to judge what’s inside me.  Someone outside of me could maybe give a better answer but I’ve never really been one for therapy, sitting in some office telling a stranger things I don’t even know about.  Just spitting things out for the sake of it.  Everything is really just for the sake of it, if you think about it.

I guess I’ll just keep going and see if things change, but I’m assuming they’ll stay the same.  It’s not a bad idea to have something big happen to you every once in a while, and anyway, you can’t control it.   Sometimes I try to make it in my mind so that everything is equal and nothing is bigger or smaller than anything else.  I try to make everything the same so that it feels kinda like that preacher’s voice at my mom’s funeral, all static like a big blanket covering everything.  Nothing can get away from that feeling.  When nothing is either good or bad, there’s nothing to run from.  And I guess there just really aren’t that many places to run to anymore and it’s better to just stay where you are and maybe watch the sun go down like me and Fidel do.  Just watch it fall down behind the shutters.  Once it does, and the room goes dark, I always think, “yeah, that’s the world out there.”

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