My partner talks casually about the impending death of his dad, who’s been in a coma-like state for several days now.
There’s sadness in his voice, although he’s trying to shroud it with a stance that he has accepted his father is dying. It’s much more imminent now, since all the medications his dad used to take and the procedures he used to get have been withdrawn.
The only remaining medical intervention is pain reliever.
I have been feeling down myself. I know it’s related to the impending death in the family.
“I permit you to be happy, it’s Christmas,” he told me.
This was after I told him, perhaps we didn’t need to have a Christmas tree this year.
I really don’t feel any semblance of joyfulness that Christmas used to bring.
It’s not that I’m facing the big 4-0 next month, but maybe that’s part of it.
I just generally feel down these days and I can’t quite stick my finger as to why exactly.
Even doing laundry and pressing shirts don’t stimulate me. Yeah I’m that “deep,” house chores inspire me and keep me going.
There’s been a tentative date for the funeral, my partner told me.
I really didn’t want to talk about it.
But since he’s telling me what the plans are, I felt obliged to listen.
For the sake of practicality, I need to discuss this with him.
But I know there’s more than being practical when you’re talking about death.
There are metaphysical realities that inevitably make the subject matter much more affecting and perhaps depressing.
I didn’t want to talk about death, not because I’m afraid of my own.
It’s not the first death that’s personally affecting me.
I’ve lost people important to me.
Some of them died of cancer and others simply of old age.
Some of the deaths were life-changing for me, and others life-enriching.
I’m convinced that death is something so personal that you experience it alone. You can’t share it with others, because you can’t say “I will die in your stead” or “Can you die for me?”
There will be a funeral and it looks like it’s going to be soon.
Dec. 10, 2010
