2/13/08

Sometimes I'll stop focusing on what I'm working on and my mind will wander into pain. I think of how it must feel to have you father die. Just gone. Even if you've been preparing for it. And then I realize how fun Bob was. I can't remember one single thing he said word for word, but he always commanded attention. He was charismatic and funny. He was the kind of person we need more of in the world, not less. When I think of myself losing someone like that, it hurts. My heart truly hurts. It tingles, in an awful not quite unbearable uncomfortable way. In such a way, that if I could, I would rip it out just so it would stop. The tingling makes it feel like my heart is moving in my chest, like it's banging against me wanting to break free and not feel it anymore because it's so much. It's going to slam me against a wall and my breastbone will break open and I'll scream in so much pain and it's all going to flow out of me in a gigantic almost never-ending stream of steaming black liquid. And then I'll be ok, maybe.

And there's Jim. I didn't get to see him last Sunday when my parents visited while they were in Chicago for the Purdue Women's game. My dad says Jim knew then that he was dying. When I think about it, my breath gets quick and shallow and everything hurts again and it's all I can do to not yell that pained yell of loss. I last saw him over the summer at his birthday party. It was fabulous, a real shindig. He was happy and with family and his friends, all the people that meant the most. He was always Big Jim. I hate seeing his sons sad. All of them are and were so full of life and fun. Always up for an adventure. The support of the family is impressive and so needed. Dad's family is always there for times like this. They've taught me family is always more important. You always come for family. It doesn't matter what else is going on, you're family which means you're always there.