quick back story:
Papaw died a year and a half ago.
current situation:
I called Mamaw as I was coming back into the wonderful Mobile, but of course, she did not answer so the answering machine picked up. now, the answering machine is some odd man's voice that sounds nothing like my Papaw's voice, but for half of a half of a half of a second, I thought it was him that answered... and my heart nearly fell through my floor and onto the interstate. I think I caught myself off guard, because in my heart, I know that he is dead. but in my mind, I still expect to see him every. single. time. that I go home to visit my family. and so whenever the answering machine picked up, all that I processed was 'there is a man answering the phone at Mamaw's house. it must be Papaw.' and I think that a part of me wanted it to be him so bad that as soon as I realized that it was not him, I broke down.
quicker back story:
I was at his house the night he died.
I did not sleep. I stayed awake to listen to him breathe on the baby monitor.
I'm not sure why. I just had a bad feeling. so I listened.
I heard Mamaw wake up and begin panicking.
and I can replay it all in my head at an instant's notice.
current situation:
as soon as I realized that the machine was, in fact, not him, every single event from that night flooded into my brain. I could see it. I could hear it. I could feel it. all at once. and this time, I wasn't on pills to numb the pain like I was the night of his death. I do this from time to time... the whole flash flood of images and emotions and feelings. and I know that it's perfectly normal, but the extent to which I do, is probably not normal. it is almost like self destruction, because I know that it is going to send me spiraling into a panic attack - yet, I do it anyways. on the interstate, nonetheless. so, here I am, practically convulsing on the interstate as I try to navigate my way to my apartment... and then the realization hits that I'll never see him again - which I know, but I cannot accept. and then my convulsions calm to tears and tears calm to a runny nose and then it's gone. I go back to the fact that he's still alive and just waiting at home in his recliner - preparing my mind for the next time.
why can't I just prepare my mind for the fact that he's not at home?
why can't I just accept the reality that he's gone forever?
and most importantly, why do I do this to myself?
“Most of the laugh
tracks on television were recorded in the early 1950’s. These days, most of the
people you hear laughing are dead.”
-Chuck Palahniuk
