Friday, October 10, 2014

Tangibility

Last night I found out my paternal grandmother died through a text from my mom. It was 9:59pm. I read the screen, paused, put the phone down, and turned to get comfortable in my bed.

I woke up this morning, reread the text and still had no answer. I knew I was supposed to say something. I put the phone down again and got into a hot shower.

I text my sister while riding the elevator to the 2nd floor.

"Did mom text you?"

"Yeah, I tried to get her to focus on how [Name] must be feeling. She was still his mom."

"I didn't respond. I felt like she wanted me to say something."

"Well... I mean, you would feel bad for a stranger losing their mom, its the same thing with [Name]. I feel bad for anyone who loses there parents, but she was 87. So it was good run."

"I mean I feel bad. My first thought was "that sucks" then I thought I should feel worse or something. 87 is a good run."

"Why should you feel anything else? You didn't really know her. Just tell mom it's sad. That's it."

I walked to class and thought,  Yeah, that's it.

I did not grow up with my dad. And, even as I typed this I thought it was interesting my sister refers to him by his name and doesn't say 'your dad'. I'm glad she does that. The words my dad feel foreign in my mouth as if the syllabus were ones I had never said before. They feel foreign to type.

I've been mulling over the conversation and realize that it bothers me more that her death, how he feels, doesn't make me feel much. I almost wish it bothered me more. Maybe made me want to pick of the phone to give me condolences, but it doesn't.  I'm not sure if that makes me a bad person. I hope that wanting to feel bad balances things out, but then that thought to makes me feel selfish. I guess the real question is:

How should one feel about a father, a family, that has never tangibly existed?

Friday, October 3, 2014

We Are Not Alone in Our Loss

Last week a friend's sister died suddenly. He was flying home the next day to say good-bye. His good-bye's were instead said to us sitting on a balcony with fall winds creeping all around. His words although beautiful did not warm us, but only made us feel his cold loss as if we too had lost a sister that night.

"Somos familia. Somos un circulo," he said gesturing with his Modelo.

We nodded as the somber night shifted, and we laughed as if nothing had happened. Only in moments did we remember. When there was a lull and someone quickly moved to break the silence.

His girlfriend, sat stoically, face smooth as she took drags off her cigarette, but her eyes gave her heart away.

The next day one of the circle posted this on Facebook:
"Ayer fue un día muy triste y muy dulce. Partió de este mundo la hermana de alguien a quien mucho amamos. Entonces hicimos lo que se debe hacer en esos momentos, los seis que somos nos sentamos a charlar, reír, llorar, brindar porque aún en los peores momentos no se está solo. Nunca se está solo."

In loss, it's important not to be alone. Unfortunately, the older we become we are never alone in our losses, but it is always nice to know that we are a part of a circle. That we are beautiful. That we are loved.