I don’t remember much about the first two months. I remember an intense blinding pain, then numbness as I suppose shock took hold. Then NOTHING.
After that I felt as great shifting of the world, as if a record had stopped playing on a turntable. I began to see reality the way it would be from now on. I finally looked at the world and didn’t recognize but knew I had to re-enter the world of the living.
For the next few months I spoke with a voice that wasn’t mine, saw things with eyes that weren’t mine. I struggled through every day blinded with visions of the horror of Day Zero. I mimicked a living being but was not one, I was an imitation. Not a real boy.
Then came DESPERATION. I wanted out of the cycle. I needed to stop seeing things that weren’t there and hoping for voices from beyond that I knew would never speak to me. I grew angry and spiteful. The world could have burned to a cinder if it were in my power. I quaked with RAGE at the lowliest creature to “God” himself (with whom I know is non-existent). I had to surrender to people who knew better but I was never fully satisfied because deep down I knew I know me better than anyone else.
So months of seeking help and time seemed to soothe me a bit. The rage subsided, sadness bloomed and waned. Some days I would ever say I was happy. I would wake, feel good for a few minutes and then remember how awful things had become. Then after the holidays and my birthday were ignored purposefully I began to HOPE. Maybe everything would be all right.
Then a big DREAD took hold of my brain. A year past THAT DAY was coming. I couldn’t avoid looking at the calendar with unease. I didn’t know what my reaction would be. I shuddered thinking of incurring those dreaded flashbacks again. I can’t see that again!!! Please, no! In the end it was a day not unlike any other. No extra emphasis was placed on it, no added remembrance or moment of silence. It was just November 4th, not “one year since my father died and I found him”. It was just another day, another in a continuously grey haze I have been living in.
That was two days ago, I am still here. I’m still plodding along, trying to right my course and become a human being again. It’s hard, I won’t lie. There are a lot of days where I would rather be off to eternal blackness instead of awash in the colors of the world. It’s a sad existence at times but it’s one with potential. Potential, a word I head a lot growing up., Something I never realized my full value of during my Dad’s life. I REGRET this very much as I do a lot of things now.
Despite this, I know he loved me and that he was proud of the man I had become. I know I loved him as much as a son could love a father and as much as a friend could love a friend. I miss him more than I feel anything else but there is LOVE. Love for his memory, for the enduring care and compassion from and to my angelic wife and of course our dog whose blissful ignorance of where Grandpa is lightens my heart a little every day.
I write this for some purpose, I don’t know why. I’ve somehow inherited someone else’s life and I am doing my best with it. I shall return one day, fully-formed and ready for the outside world. Until then I bid you farewell and hope all your days are unique, that’s a good way to put it. I hope you all have unique days and that your years do not play out in faded, hazy memories. I will see you again, just not right now. At least I HOPE so.