I woke up being nervous, with pre-performance anxiety in my legs, only because I knew I had to take over my brother’s birthday cake in a public place, namely in the candy store. I arrived with Sophie, but I left her in the car and went in alone. I was confident and patient, although I felt terrible anxiety inside. We stopped at the gas station too, which also made me nervous. Then I drove her home to her parents and went to my mother’s house to celebrate my brother’s birthday.
Mother told me today that she wants to get rid of our dog Mira, because she can’t live with her anymore. She want’s to get rid of the dog that my father wanted to have, he choose her, he raised her in her first months, she was a part of our family for almost a year, we fed her, we stroked her, we raised her. Mother declared today that despite all this she wants to make her disappear or whatever, just because she had enough of her. Mira is already very big, and she is a little difficult to handle sometimes, because she is young and playful and not very obedient at times. Otherwise she is absolutely okay, she only needs a little more attention, guidance and dominance.
It really felt unpleasant to get up early morning. But I had to and I wanted to, for the mass for my father’s soul. I knew it was mere formality, and a better future might be ahead of me, after I had hit the bottom of the seemingly bottomless pit of suffering.
I faced another hard day today. I went to my father’s ashes in the morning, to the mortician in the city, right next to the hospital he had died in. I was really afraid of the whole experience, but I could be quite stable and calm. I did the paperwork, paid what I had to, sat into my car, and drove home to my mother with my father’s ashes on the back-seat. I was driving alone. I wanted to be alone. I left my girlfriend in the city, and planned to get back for her in the evening.
Today is my first morning without my father. I can hardly get out of bed. I hardly woke up and I am already thinking about how to say to mother that we should not hire the cheaper mortician from next town, because it is complicated and conflict-prone to bring him to town, even if it is cheaper. I want to keep the family peace as much as I can, but I don’t want to create a conflict about the funeral. I am afraid that she is not going to understand the situation and my point, no matter how nicely, kindly, and calmly I try to say it.
After finishing our lunch, we went home with my car, but I asked my brother to drive. I sat to the rear-right seat. I prefer travelling there, especially because I wanted to hide from everything and everybody. I didn’t want to be noticed at all. I asked my mother to wait with all the phone-calls for a while, we could figure out everything at home. She told me that she had already told it to three of her friends. But when? Right away after I called her? Or during they came to the hospital?
It is Friday evening. It was exactly 13 months ago, when we started our fight with cancer, and now I am sitting at your death-bed in the Oncology Institution, and I am watching your last breaths. Your last roommate could go home today, so there is only you and me in this two-bed room.