Stop Trying to Look For Answers

It is Serbian custom to have a party of some sort six months after someone passes away. I'm excited about this idea in relation to my dad's passing. I'd been planning this blog to be more of a tribute to him and that I'd have some sort of release party for it, make a recording of "Starogradski Pjesme" (means old world music in Serbian). We'd all gather, happily recounting tales of his life, our experiences with him, tears would be wiped away...

But that doesn't seem right anymore. I am not making time to interview people about his life. I find it tedious and tiresome and I can barely listen to the recordings we did just a few weeks ago. I breakdown crying and the aftermath is almost unbearable. Listening to his voice...The three and a half month warning we got from the time he was diagnosed until his death was nothing. A blink. Six months will be two blinks.

And then what? I don't suppose there needs to be a "then what." I think I need to stop trying to find answers to things. I know that I'm supposed to look, to be introspective, use creativity to get through the pain. I'm just not sure I'm ready to write his life story. At least I don't know how yet.

I just don't want this to slip away. I know this will sound crazy, but I told him I was writing his story. The doctors thought he wasn't responding to stuff, but I was there in his room, alone, and I was holding his hand and told him I loved him and would write all about his life. A single tear fell from his eye. As much as I like to explain it away as coincidence, his eyes weren't perpetually watery after his stroke...he had some cognitive ability, even towards the very end. One or two days before he passed, I was trying some rehabilitation moves with him, moving his leg up and down. After a minute of this I asked, "Daddy am I bothering you?" And he smiled. I was. And that was okay. He was dying.

Oh well. I know when I'm ready I'll write. I know I will capture what I need. I already have. I guess I am just upset because so far it is not pretty, it is not glossy, it is not even coherent sometimes. I can't imagine what I'm doing is a proper commemoration.