Lather, Rinse, Repeat

I suppose I should write something deep and profound about grief, loss, and having your whole life put in perspective. But I've got nothing. My life is consumed by mundane tasks. Get up, go to work, talk to Mom, come home, make dinner, space out on the couch for a few hours, talk to Mom again, try to make conversation with S, go to bed. Rinse. Repeat. Over and over and over. Pretend everything is normal.

But it's not. Dad is gone. Mom is a mess. I'm not dealing with it at all. Something funny, annoying, trivial will happen at work, and I'll pick up the phone when I get home and call my parents house. And after the last ring and just before Mom says hello...

I remember. I can't share that joke with Dad. I can't tell him about my awful day. I can't talk shop with him. I'll never hear his voice again. Mom answers the phone, "hello?", and in that split second it all crashes around me. She will never be the same again. Her heart has broken in two. All of their hopes, dreams, and plans for the future have smashed in to pieces. My family will never be whole again. There is no man that loves me unconditionally, just for being me. The Kid. I'm alone. And so is she. I have to catch myself and not ask to talk to him. It happens almost daily. "Hi Mom, just checking to see how you're doing. Did you eat? Did you get any sleep? How was your day?".

I don't know how I'm doing. I am glad you keep asking. I think about my friends a lot. I love you guys. It's not you, it's me. I just don't know how to do anything but Lather, Rinse, Repeat.