Saturday, July 18, 2009

back home

I still can't stop shaking my head. In dealing with my own impending death, we were not, I repeat, NOT supposed to have to have another death so close to us (and so young).

We've been back home all of 2 days (not even) and after the flurry and joy of being back on safe ground (there was nothing safe about the turmoil in Vancouver- and it's all too fresh to write about right now) reality is starting to settle in. Yesterday we spent some time in the garden, looked at all that's grown in the month we've been away: so much growth admist all this dying - long, prolonged, painful death.

Now it's quiet, we are tired, still not over the jet lag - as far as we're concerned it could be noon and we need a nap. I started unpacking the luggage of his things and the only thing I could think of was this: why did G-d make him, just to take him away at 17? I mean no disrespect or insincerity, but I suppose now that the actual observation of slow starvation and dehydration to death is over, now that the death has occured, now that we are out of that toxic dynamic called "his relatives", the questions come pouring in. Appropriately so it is raining, a heavy West Coast kind of rain - it's the kind of rain that is usually cleansing for the soul - a rain that could wash away troubles, clear the mind. This rain only reminds us of the copious drops (of tears) that are still to come. I know the next few days, weeks, months will see hundreds of questions go unanswered.

I feel a little stupid wanting to continue to write about my own process in dealing with my shortened life. But I also feel very blessed to know, in my gut that I'm on borrowed time. As we all are, but most people forget that, want to mask their mortality, even negate it. Sometime between now and then I will come to terms with my wife's loss, and my own - and sometime between now and then I will be able to write again, about death, without it being every breath I take, because that is all I breathed for three long weeks.