It is bizarre. Strange beyond description. What could be a reason of this very obtuse fact - that no matter how sad the news is, or how heart rending the situation - I can never CRY. It's not just a lack of tears, or dry eyes, it is a complete inability to come close to the initial feeling that precedes crying. It is an impossibility of feeling something deeply. Nothing moves me. Whatever you may say or what may happen, no matter how treacherous, fails to hurt me enough to progress to crying.
Does this mean I'm unfeeling and cold? Does this point to how inhuman and callous, and hard at heart I am and lack the slightest tinge of ethos. This is a garish and harsh portrayal of myself? Am I a witch? Am I an unmoving and an unmoved monstrosity? I don't know. Things just don't have an impact on me, they fail to imprint and register.
I have not cried for losing my father, for the last 12 months, not a day or a night has passed where I have not thought of him, not wanted him by my side, not seen him in front of me, not felt him in my dreams, not missed him tremendously - yet, the fact, the very obvious and veritable fact of his death hasn't really registered with me, it is an alien concept to date, I cannot connect the two - death, dying and my father? What relationship can death have to my father? What does that grave, a mound of stone and concrete mean to me, how does it represent what my father is/was? I know no matter how hard I try, I will not be able to find him in this space and time, yet! I believe, that he is here in this space and time and is not dead! and since he isn't really dead, perhaps only away from our eyes, how can I cry for him? Why should I even think of him in Past tense? Why must I say goodbye to him? and why must I mourn him?
I know my father isn't dead. He is alive. And therefore the bloody idea of crying for him just doesn't arise.
Life, has taken some serious turns for me, I have been jolted out of my stupor and shoved in the way of some harsh light, revealing graphically all the ugliness of my hitherto peaceful existence - My life, the people that peopled it, the ways that made it what it was suddenly came undone, unraveled, finished and dead. And yet again, the same inertia on my part, no tears, no mourning, no grieving! I exist in a kind of a paralytic state, a perpetual frozen carcass that is buried deep within mounds of snow, and retains its features in tact and complete, though without life.
I wonder then, what is the difference between life and death? Isn't it strange that for me being alive is in a state of semi-coma, a state of non-existence if you will, for I cannot feel anything that would count for living. I am then, perhaps, dead and finished. Non-existent, gone, forgotten. Where is the fault line dividing the living from the dead? Is my father then alive for me for technically I am as dead as him? Are we then meeting on a plain different from that which normal people inhabit, and therefore, since he is with me, he isn't dead for me, not gone away from me, never to return and hence I have practically no reason to be sad and tearful?
Is this convoluted logic? I haven't a clue, All I know is the losses of the past few years have rendered me more dead then alive, and has snatched from me the power to feel, the luxury of tears, the sheer relief of feeling pain, and then perhaps getting beyond it. For, I am on this side, the unfeeling, frozen side, and for the terrible accidents of the years haven't really happened and past then, they are perpetually and continuously happening... I have not come to a place that is beside, after the episodes, the shock of the events have taken a total hold of me and I remain in shock - constant shock and yes, that dreaded of all things - denial.
What will it take for me to cry? I shudder to think that, may GOD keep all those I love in health and happiness - for I am completely and thoroughly undone!!!
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