TomFlannery.com

I think part of what it means to grieve is having the bad memories obliterate the good ones. It’s like being stuck in deep mud. Not only does spinning your wheels do no good, but anybody who gets close is splattered. It’s not much fun being around somebody who is grieving. Party invites are rare, and when you sequester yourself in the corner nobody is in a hurry to ease you back into the middle of the room.

And it can be selfish too. What are we really missing? Perhaps the ease in which the departed could solve our own maze of problems? We want them back…but on what terms? Or who’s?

Alzheimer’s is an awful disease. I miss my father desperately. But I need to remember that it hurt more watching him suffer through it than it does seeing his empty chair. There’s no more pain. There’s no more confusion. There’s no more fear. I’ll never forget that look in his eye. The eyes can’t hide fear. Damn the eyes anyway. They are indeed windows.

But I’m not special. And my situation is not unique. That’s difficult to remember sometimes when you’re busy working on  hibernation. It’s hard enough when hibernation comes naturally.

The leaves are exploding. At their height now. I can stand on my front porch and see mountains that look like they are on 5 different kinds of fire. It can be breathtaking. There is beauty in the world. Yes. Still.

Soon I’ve pick up the guitar. Creeping that way. The songs are there. The guitar tries to hide behind the chair but the neck sticks out. I see it. All the time. Like the leaves.

In a bit…

–tf