The....what, sixth? Only? Really? I suck....ok then....The Sixth. Death. Ghosts. Eyes.

I can feel it, it's coming, the urge to write again. Perhaps it's not coming tonight, but soon....

So far it has been a rather lousy year. My father died on March 21 of this year, it was not unexpected, but it was gruesome. He had been in hospital for about 6 weeks, his mind and body getting weaker and weaker. For the final two weeks he was non-verbal. This was a man who's mind would work so quickly, so sharply, for all of the years I can remember, that, as my grandmother once said "try to catch John in a corner....."....he used to say, after he'd interrupted you for the umpteenth time "I have a mind like a steel trap, you know".......

You could NEVER win an argument with him....never. He could prove his point with fewer words than anyone I know (not that he ever used few words, mind you), he could out think most people before they'd even set their minds to the task at hand. He was chauvinistic, sexist, infuriating, misogynistic...all those things, yes, but he WAS brilliant, no one could question that...and to see him reduced to a shell, a..a..a...non-verbal thing....(that thing in there, that's not The Goose, no way....) was horrible.

He caused a lot of emotional trauma to both my sister and I....body image issues, self worth issues, self doubt issues, self worth issues.....but the last important words I spoke to him, half an hour before he died, while he involuntarily and sporadically squeezed my hand, were; "whatever you think you have done wrong....we forgive you...and we love you." Whether he heard me or not, whether he understood or not.....I don't know, I doubt it, but I sincerely hope that he did hear it, on some level, on some plain, in some lifetime or some existence...because I DO forgive him, and I do love him. It will take time to grow up, to realize that the things he instilled in me are not true

But holding a grudge against him as he died....I was incapable of that.

I can get into the more unpleasant aspects of that night, but I'd really rather not...not now, I'm not ready for that. The important thing is that I hope he knows that those words I spoke were true. He did the best he could with the tools he had. His own father....well, my dad did not even attend his funeral, need I say more about that relationship?

We had him cremated, as per his wishes, one day soon I will be able to write a spot on how wonderful the people at the funeral home were....and we had written on his urn:

John F. Lowery
Mind like a steel trap

One day soon I will be able to write about how I feel about this, about the things which have been happening in the house since he died, about how we are recovering, about how sometimes, when I think of him, I still can't fully accept that he is no longer here. That he won't be walking through the door bellowing at the dogs, that I will never hear his voice again, that I will never see the eyes which I inherited looking at me again; in humour, disgust, apathy or fondness ever again.

Hopefully tomorrow, hopefully soon.

In steel trap harmony

IrishRed