Wednesday, December 17, 2014

Self-Portrait with the Dead


I didn't set out to make a selfie. Dan's memorial was just so pretty I ran around taking photos of everything. I look hunched up and sad, and that's how I feel these days. Like the couch is made of flypaper and I'm a bug who can't get off. Until I'm forced to manufacture some kind of dinner for my mom. Last night was an embarrassing array of no-effort leftovers. Tonight I'm making lentil soup if I get up in the next ten minutes.

I've been in the weirdest state of mind. Like I could sit all day and Google how to bring a person back from the dead and then actually read the shit that comes up.

It's fixing to rain here. I like the feel of it. Like at least the weather is doing something.

And now I'm doing something too. Soup. I'm making soup. I'm making soup. Well obviously, I'm not. I'm typing. But now really, I'm making soup.

*****

I made soup. I chopped up an onion and some celery and sautéed them in olive oil. I added chicken stock and seasonings and lentils. We'll have soup and some sliced avocado and persimmons, and could anything be better? I'll toast some french bread and butter too.

I just made my mom her 2 oz. doctor-permitted martini and if all goes as usual, she'll soon be having a pre-dinner conversation with her dead sister and who knows who else. She's got a talent for talking to the dead.

God, don't you just wanna come over here?

And did I mention that the non-alchoholic gin arrived? I'm going to have some with a little ginger beer--which y'all might think is ass-backwards. Like maybe I should be the one drinking and not the 90-year-old. Truth be told, I'm pretty sure she'd know the difference and be pissed as hell about it, and I really don't feel I can drink while I'm responsible for her. Any minute I could be following the ambulance to the hospital, then acting like a fool when I can't remember shit when the paramedics or the doctors question me about this and that. That's how I am stone cold sober under pressure.  I can act like a drunk with no help at all from a little fermented bunch of berries. 



5 comments:

Anonymous said...

God bless you Denise. I am in exactly the same boat. Some days are tougher than others. Trouble is on the tough days, I forget about the other kind completely. Sometimes it feels like forever. It's the unrelentingness of it. Be good to yourself dear heart. I hope you come out of your cocoon soon and back to your rightful life. You and me both.

-invisigal

lily cedar said...

Grief is a strange animal.

Sending hugs.

Ms. Moon said...

What Lily Cedar said- grief is a strange animal.
Just when you think you've reached a certain place, the ground slides out from beneath you and you're in a completely different place.
You are beautiful. You are.

Anonymous said...

Turn the Tarot upside down for a while. Don't take it out, just turn it upside down.

A.

37paddington said...

My mom speaks to the dead too. It comforts her to reconnect with those loved ones already gone. Your evocation of missing Dan is haunting and painful and also beautiful. He is worth missing. Sending you love, my friend.