At work, I keep getting asked how I’m doing. Well, I’m still here, though what “here” means is always different, of course. Last weekend we moved into our new place with the much-appreciated help of my mom, brother, and sister-in-law. At this point we’ve unpacked enough to function--probably more than many people would expect us to have done considering we’ve been here a week, but then, we’ve had practice.
I have a chiropractor appointment on Monday with the chiropractor I went to somewhat regularly before we moved to Pennsylvania. I was thinking about how long it’s been since I’ve seen her: four years. That may seem long, but then I thought about what I’ve done since then: 3 different apartments, 2 different houses, 1 baby. It feels like a lifetime ago. And even though I know I’m supposed to be happy about our new house (which *is* wonderful, by the way), I cannot seem to stop feeling sad.
Of course I’m sad: I’m mourning my father. But the new house is making me feel kind of lost, more so than any of our other moves. I’ve been trying to figure out why, and I think it has something to do with feeling incredibly disconnected from my dad. When P and I went back to clean the apartment and hand back the keys this week, I felt a pang... not because of the apartment itself, for which I had no strong feelings, but because it was a place where my father was. I’m pretty sure the last time he was there was when he put together the tricycle my folks got for baby-j. He wasn’t there much. But he was there, not here in this new space. He will never be in this house.
In the last couple years, my father worked a lot. He had irregular hours and irregular days, and he often had to work on weekends, so when we got together with my folks, it was often just with my mom. He wasn’t there for many of the trips there or the trips here, and so when I try to comfort myself by thinking of the last few years with him, I’m frustrated. In this way, his death has created sort of an absence of absence, and that thought is so horrible, I try to push it down each time it surfaces.
1 comment:
Wow. My heart goes out to you, L. I think moving is an incredibly disorienting experience; and that’s without any extenuating circumstances, like the death of one’s father.
And why should you like your new house? I’d say most homes have emotional significance, which makes the physical dear to us. I know you loved the last house you owned, not for its physical structure, but the wonderful neighborhood (in part, at least). I’m sure your new house is wonderful, but I can only imagine how hard it is to feel grounded. I guess this is why some people can’t bear to move after the death of a loved one and yet others feel that they must move.
We’ve been thinking of you and P and all the energy that goes into a new semester. I hope it’s not overwhelming you – maybe distracting if that’s what you’re looking for? Peace.
Love,
Erica
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