People keep asking me if I am ok. Asking me what I am feeling and if I need anything. I feel as if I have said ” I feel so tired” more in the past 4 days than I have ever said in my life. I was fine for 2 days. My mind carried on as usual, slow, steady and contemplative.
Now I feel it, heavy in my bones, like lead and earth and water. Deep and still like frozen lakes and mountains. The cold is both powerful and crippling and the fire of it burns just under the surface of my skin. My bones feel alive as if they are waking from a sleep that they never knew they were in.
My muscles and nerves and veins and skin are responding, groaning in surprise and heating up in support. My jaw and the bones under my eyes remind me that I need stillness. There is an ache there, a vibration that comes from the lowest part of my back; just before my bum begins. The vibration travels between and through my scapular and demands that I listen. I have not been until now, and so the journey continued into my jaw and cheeks.
My mother tells me it is tension, she tells me to rest and to stop cleaning, she tells me to eat and to drink, but I look into her eyes and know that she is telling me as well as herself.
“Rest, eat, sleep body. Please help me look after you, help me look after me.”
My sister is quiet, still and exhausted. I see it in their eyes, the weight that I feel in my bones. We are carrying it together, the three of us. We are wearing it and massaging it and working it into a shape that is a little less difficult to carry.
We have been cleaning. We have been crying, we have been singing, we have been silent and we have been laughing, but most importantly we have been together. The 3 of us, since Friday 12:12 pm. We have been together. Checking in with each other, checking up on each other, tapping out at times too.
The exhaustion creeps up at strange times, random intervals, unexpectedly. It comes like giant swells and covers everything, almost paralysing the mind and body. Cleaning our family home seemed the most natural step to take and so we found ourselves creating our ritual. Filling the loss with movement, rhythm, almost like a meditation.
We have been cleaning and juggling work and studies and financial arrangements for the future. We could not tap out of everyday-life, sadly both my mother and sister had to step right back into reality and face the world, customers and clients accordingly.
I am lucky to be able to work with a computer screen between me and the world that allows me to afford to live in it. We arranged an open house 3 days after my father passed away.
We were unsure of whether it was a good idea or not. We are not religious and do not have customs for death as we have never had to deal directly with it. We opened up our home after + – 4 years of having it slowly crumble as we struggled to keep motivated to clean and love it.
My father was so unwell, mentally and physically and absorbed energy like a whale devours plankton. My father was magic, but his magic began to fade almost 14 years ago with his first stroke and increased fear dying.
Opening our home felt like clouds parting after days, months, years of grey, in order to show the soft, warm, reassuring glow of the sun. We have had family, friends and neighbours come over to our family home, bringing with them, food, love, memories, time and willingness to hold us and the space that we had opened up.
My father was magic and I have been allowed and encouraged and supported while slowly I begin to remember that.
My father was magic. The young boy who pulled out Excalibur from stone and became a King.
My Father Was Magic.