So what’s going on with me? I rearranged my office the other day. The new layout helps my productivity ever so slightly.
Yesterday I went to the shore. Walked the boardwalk, ate a chili dog at The Windmill, and ordered a small ice cream at Hoffman’s. It was a day my father would have loved. That was how he and my mom spent many a weekend. I almost felt like he was there with me. I kept looking out at the ocean and although we spread his ashes a bit south, I pretended he was swimming out there in Belmar.
I had been doing so well. So well, in fact, that I wondered if I was a cold person. As it is, I experience periods where I feel fine but then it hits me. So apparently grief comes in waves. Which is kinda funny because a guy I know recently told me that when you take psychotropic drugs, the experience comes over you in waves.
My mom recently asked me if my subconscious mind had come to terms with dad’s death or do I feel a lingering sense that he will return as if on a vacation? I have to admit, I do have this odd feeling that he will turn up and yet I know that is absolutely ludicrous. It’s this weird internal fight. Dead, can’t be dead, dead, can’t be dead, dead.