While Fritz' dad was dying I didn't post.
Which is different than saying I didn't sit down to my desk at scattered hours and think about posting.
Too heavy, I risked swamping this rackety lifeboat I paddle in. Because my life at sea has taught me I can't afford the interest on borrowed sorrow. Grief has had an over-sticky quality for my psyche - it must be that my cells have an overabundance of receptor sites. And I don't know how to do other than keep the deal I've made with MORTALITY - that if need be I will hold hands and dance with that Sovereign Somberness, but nevermore entertain His Grave Solemnity in state.
So now, coming back online, I feel this backlog of the things I'll never say.
The deliciously guilty pleasure, for example, of the first day I didn't have to stay all day, making breakfast, washing bedding, and trying to come up with something Dad would/ could eat.
Not to mention the posts of pure misanthropy. (My working title at one point: "Card Carrying, Dues-Paying Non-Member of the Universal Misanthropic Anti-Society for Even-Handedly Inclusive Despising").
Which title I stuck together, like an ugly awkward lego clump, the day I sat in the WalMart parking lot (never a great spot for seeing humanity in a better light) before carrying in an armload of packages of wrong-sized adult diapers and watched two unwashed men trying unsuccessfully to jump start their clunker.
I wished for my camera - for just a moment - the perfect illustration of all I was going to tell you. Then thought, really? I was so tired of trying to imagine other people's stories, trying to see anything at all redeeming beyond the ugly and obvious - beyond what was so very there - in this case, a fat man's bottom cleavage.
You and I are both better off by far not to have had to wade through all that.
Well, you are.
I did wade through - or paddle past. And of course, there were sweet moments, too quiet and small to say much about now.
But all of it, now, paddled past. And that's the point.
And it wasn't so bad, now, looking back.
It never is, is it?