in absentia

2nd of October, 2020 8:00 AM

I woke this morning captivated by memories of my father feverishly dancing around in my thoughts as if he were a whirling dervish, entrancing me to remain within that transitional state of sleep and wakefulness. Reality slowly sets in as I acknowledge that he now lives solely within this transitional universe, swimming amongst other innumerable thoughts and memories hidden within my psyche. It will soon be three months since his passing, and I continue to quietly mourn him every day - even if for only a few brief moments in an otherwise overwhelmingly hectic day.

I often return to the early morning hours of his death. On the 16th of July 2020, a 2:30 AM phone call from the hospice nurse. It is 3:00 AM by the time I arrive. His body lay outstretched, cocooned within a blanket fitted up to his chin, his face cleansed and hair slicked back just as he’d styled it since adolescence. I kiss him softly over the forehead, cheeks, chin, and nose while my tears fall upon him in a second sweeter act of cleansing. The body is slightly soft; it will take a few hours for full rigor mortis to set in. Thus, I cradle his hands and kiss his palm. I massage his feet, a ceremonial act I began once bed-bound to avoid muscle atrophy. Yet, the massage, the bathing, and the changing were also for selfish reasons; Touch being my love language. I was desperate to demonstrate my love for him, yet no words were sufficient to communicate the yearning i held inside. This powerful action, now a painful memory, burned into my mind as a bittersweet moment. Only on his deathbed could I express the affection I craved yet was denied.

Our relationship was complicated, most times strained, and for a few years estranged; conversations commonly held a palpable tension as our words bobbed back and forth, neither of us fully understanding the other. Bloodline was our only parallel. He, a mathematician with an obsessive tendency for order and logic. in contrast, I was an artist and Bohemian. free-spirited with a compulsory tendency for rebellion. We moved through and experienced this world with different eyes, ears, and hearts.