My father passed away Thanksgiving day, as if the universe have some mocking intention to remind me that I really do have things to be thankful for. Who knows, Iím just here, alive and well. Thatís all I know. As I write this Iím sitting in a hair salon waiting for Veeg de Amor Moreno to get her hair cut. Itís the first normal/nice thing that Iíve done in over a week. I needed this more than anyone will ever know. Watching her expressions while she get her hair cut and styled is just some thing so normal that itís starting to fill me with thoughts Iím not sure I can describe.
This week has actually been like that, a swirl of emotions and thoughts that I canít always put a name to. On a side now, my iPod is perfectly sick. It seems to know what Iím going through and plays the songs that are both appropriate and ironic for the situation... but mostly ironic. Right now itís playing Queenís ďSomebody to love.Ē SICK!
So I got word today that the funeral might be on Wednesday. This is good for the most part, but also sucky. Good because it is rather soon, and not on Monday, which is the day of my big second interview in San Marino. Wish me luck with that, by the way.
Iím not sure Iím ready to get into the whole story of my Fatherís passing right now. Iím still trying to deal with it all. Iíll just say that Iím SO glad to be alive... to have the chance to just live. There is a saying that youth is wasted on the young. Iím here to say that life is wasted on the living. We donít really live life to its fullest until we realize that we might die some day. My Father had his entire life to as for my forgiveness, but he didnít ask me for it until he was on his deathbed. Thatís telling because he obviously felt that way, but didnít voice it until he didnít have any more time left on this Earth. Perhaps thatís the lesson Iím supposed to take from all this death, donít wait.
I couldnít stop thinking of a couple of quotes from my English classes while my father was dying. One is the famous ďTo be, or not to be,Ē line from Hamlet.
To be, or not to be: that is the question:
Whether 'tis nobler in the mind to suffer
The slings and arrows of outrageous fortune,
Or to take arms against a sea of troubles,
And by opposing end them. To die: to sleep;
No more; and by a sleep to say we end
The heart-ache, and the thousand natural shocks
That flesh is heir to, 'tis a consummation
Devoutly to be wish'd. To die, to sleep;
To sleep: perchance to dream: aye, there's the rub;
For in that sleep of death what dreams may come,
When we have shuffled off this mortal coil,
Must give us pause:
I thought more about not the question, but rather the line of what dreams may come in death.
So anyway, most of the above was written on Saturday, and here it is Sunday night and Iíve yet to finish this entry. Itís been rather hard trying to find the time writing this entry, what with everything thatís been going on.