Life: Out of Order

I think I'm going crazy. Actually, I am certain that I am going crazy.

Grief is a frightening emotion. It is overwhelming, violent, and unpredictable. There's no negotiating with it. Grief has rendered my life into a neverending nightmare, each night/day worse than the next.

My father is dead, my father is dead, my father is dead, my father is dead...The repetition does nothing to make it more real, more comprehensible. But I don't want to forget it, because there's nothing crueler than forgetting, even for one second, because remembering sets off the pain all over again. I still can't shake the urge to call his cell phone, to hear his voicemail. "Hi, this is Eddie. I can't come to the phone right now, so leave a message, and I'll call you back." Something like that. I did call his cell phone, two days after he died. Listening to his message made his death seem impossible. I burst into tears afterwards.

I wonder if there is a soul, and if there is, what happens to it when a person dies? Logic tells me that there isn't a soul, that even the most complex and dynamic personalities are only the consequences of chemicals and neurons. I keep wishing that I could believe in God, that I could have faith that there is a heaven, and that my father is in it. I keep wishing that I could believe in anything else besides the finality of death. If there is a heaven, then my father is surely there, and we will meet again. I won't have missed my chance to say goodbye, to hug him one last time, to ensure that he knew how much I loved him, how much he meant to me. But I can't believe in fairytales. I'm too smart, I'm too old.

I still don't believe it. How many times do I have to remember the image of my father's corpse until I understand, once and for all, that my father is gone, forever, for good. This isn't a vacation, this isn't another one of his hospital stays, this isn't a test. Why is death so profound?

And now I am worried about my mother. I am worried that she too will die soon, and am terrified that her death will be my death. If my father's death is extinguishing my sanity, I cannot imagine the disorder my life would be without my mother.

When I was a little girl, I often dreamt that I was taking a ride with my parents. I'd be sitting in the backseat, and my dad would be driving. But then he'd disappear, and my mom would appear in his place. But then she'd disappear, and suddenly, no one would be driving the car. I was alone in the backseat of an out of control car, petrified and alone. And then my dad would reappear, and disappear, and so on. Other nightmares have taken this one's place, but the themes are similar.

No one told me that adulthood would be this difficult.

Or maybe it's just difficult for me. I'm worried that I am reacting in an abnormal way, worried that maybe I am a little too sad, or a little too crazy. I just want to be able to fall asleep at night, like normal people, like I used to be able to... No more awful dreams, anxiety or worry. I know this can't last forever, that one day, instead of wanting to break down at the thought of losing my father, I'll be able to think of him lovingly, and not feel so god damned sad about it...But do I have enough sleeping pills to get me from here to there? I guess I'll find out.