Interesting Evening; Interesting Day (A Mobile Blog)

I went out to dinner with my Dad this evening. This wasn't your average evening, because my Mom would've been 66 years old today. My plans were hasty in the making so that my father couldn't wriggle out of going with me. I told him that I'd take him anywhere he'd like to go. He chose his favorite diner, of course. I thought that this was going to be one of those melancholy, bittersweet evenings where we'd talk about Mom for most of the meal but, it was completely the opposite. We didn't even bring her up at all. At first I thought that it was completely creepy and then it hit me: Maybe this was the best way to get through this day. It's not that we'll forget her or not revere all of the wonderful memories that we have of her. We just have those in our heart and we can enjoy a dinner as father and daughter. I think that it would've been so painful for the two of us if Mom was the overt theme of meal. It's been almost seven months since my mother's passing away. I'm getting through it without incident, for the most part, aside from some physical pain from dealing with the aftershocks of familial discord. School is on my side and my life will be my own again. I know, in my heart, that nothing will change the occurrences of June 25, 2010. That logic is what keeps me from being a driveling mess. I can be very stoic about my life and sometimes physical pain manifests itself where emotions don't show up, but that's my burden to carry. George, my father, is similar in that respect. I think that's why the dinner turned out in the fashion in which I described it. We aren't the type to make issue over certain things. This may be healthy and it may not be, but I will leave that question to my psychoanalyst. I had a panic attack this morning. Again, it didn't feel like fear. It just felt like I was very sick physically. I felt fine one minute and next minute I was sweaty, shaky, and nauseated. The limbic system is very powerful. Tonight I think I'll read a book. Right now I'm reading Under Fishbone Clouds by Sam Meekings and I'm enjoying it immensely. Mom never liked books, so that love of reading was something that I received from my Dad. My grandmother loved to read though. I can remember skimming through her copy of the Thorn Birds when I was a child and seeing countless Harlequin Romance novels on her nightstands. My Mother's books were limited to two: The King James Version of the Holy Bible, for which she barely read, and Isis Unveiled by Madame Blavatsky, another book she's only skimmed. These texts were acquired during my Mother's tenure as a Spiritualist minister. My Father's books are either about politics or technology, and he has shelves overflowing with them. My husband and I have more books than we have shelves. Some of them I can't seem to part with, others are destined for the used bookstore. I digress to the former topic before my ramblings about literature. I think that my life is moving on at a steady pace and so is my Father's, but it's an adjustment I need to take in stride. Tonight was example of taking it in good form. I can take a deep breath now. Happy Birthday Mom!

Published with Blogger-droid v1.6.5