Those Pesky Feelings

So my Dad died last weekend – I got the phone call right afterwards, letting me know – and we’re heading out to the funeral today.  The actual funeral will be tomorrow, and I’m going to see some half-sibs who I haven’t seen since they were pretty young.

You would think I’d be having some feelings, right?  I mean, death of a parent, conversations with the siblings that spent the last 40  or 50 years with him, it would be reasonable to expect feelings.  But I’m fine.  No, really.  Fine.

Until this morning when I couldn’t find my clean sheets to put out for the housekeeper.  I knew I had washed them and put them in the dryer, and after that, they had apparently completely frigging disappeared.  I was sure Sir had taken them out when he put his clothes in the dryer.  He didn’t remember doing it.  I thought I’d seen them in a basket.  He didn’t know.

We searched high and low.  No frigging sheets to be found.

And i wanted to cry – sob – throw myself on the ground and rage.  WHERE ARE MY FUCKING SHEETS???!!!!

No, I didn’t do that.  I just noticed the urge to.  i resisted the temptation to snap at Sir, even though i was secretly convinced he must have hidden them.   {WHERE ARE MY FUCKING SHEETS???  I WANT MY SHEETS!!!!!}

No, i knew he didn’t hide them.  And even when i said, I guess someone broke in and frigging stole them – ok – yes, i knew that was also not true.  Or not likely anyhow.

But I NEED MY SHEETS!!!  I NEED THEM NOW!!!  WHERE ARE THEY?????  Screaming in my head… And i could picture myself, throwing myself to the ground, sobbing angrily, GIVE ME MY SHEETS, that’s all i want is my frigging SHEETS, why can’t i have my sheets????

i know, it’s funny isn’t it?  No feelings about Dad, who’s been MIA, more or less, for ages and now is actually gone.  No feelings about the half-sibs or the step-mother, who i barely know, or the trip to his hometown, where my grandmother used to live, or the funeral.

Lots of feelings about the stupid sheets.  Which ~ as it turned out ~ were hiding in the frigging dryer all along.

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6 thoughts on “Those Pesky Feelings

  1. LM

    Sheets as a metaphor for father? Maybe your inner child knew you wouldn’t accept a tantrum about a father that you already processed and let go of? It might have been a way to be angry without reattaching to the man.

    or I could be talking out of my butt. Nothing more constructive than a little amateur psychoanalysis, right? Anyway…

    I’ll be thinking of you on your journey. Sending lots of warm hugs.

    Reply
  2. Cara

    I don’t know about sheets as a metaphor for father. But my grandfather raped me when I was ten. He died when I was in my early twenties, after years of the two of us pretending the daily rapes that summer I was ten never happened. When he died (and nobody knew that he had raped me) I felt nothing. I shed no tear of sadness at his funeral. I didn’t privately say “I’m finally free”, I didn’t spit in his dead face. I didn’t break down and admit to having been raped. I was angry at my mother instead, because she insisted that I refrain from going out on weekends for six months after his death…we were in mourning, she said. Only I wasn’t mourning. His death was no great loss to me. My weekends were.

    Reply
  3. Wordwytch

    Friday will be one month since my dad passed. Routine is what has kept me/us glued together. So, I understand about the sheets. Hugs my dear friend. Hugs!

    Reply
  4. Sunshine Kukulcan

    my father disowned me at a young age; when he passed, i felt nothing. i have grieved more at the loss of friends and companion animals more than i did for that man. Carry on proudly!
    i send you strength and honour in the coming days.

    Reply
  5. jadescastle

    i was thinking similar thoughts about the sheets. But i’ll add to that to say that your sheets are what brings you comfort: coolness after a hot summer day, warmth when you are coming back down, familiarity to help you dream. All of the things that he didn’t do.
    So, yeah, i’m glad you found your sheets.

    You know i’m the person to call if you want to curse, vent, and eat ice cream while you are on the phone. And i’ll be the person who will be there, wanting to provide comfort, when you come back down. If you want a listening and nonjudgemental ear for any of those things at all, or for anything else, you have my new cell number. i’ll email it to you as well.

    i’d like to suggest that you take some pictures, it will help you piece things together later.

    Holding you in the light, as you have held me-
    j

    Reply

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