I have that feeling again, floating all around me like a veil I can’t get off. It’s a feeling that something bad is about to happen. I can actually physically feel it as a pressure in my chest. It feels uncomfortable. And sad.
My sister sent me a photo of dad’s tombstone. It’s still weird to think that he’s not here anymore. It feels surreal somehow. But there it was, a picture of what’s left of him. I had to take a shower just to cry in privacy.
That’s when the feeling came back. I’d felt it before during my year here. I know now why.
When I saw him last summer it crossed my mind. ”I’m not gonna see him again. He’s gonna die while I’m far away”. But dad was talking about grandpa, how he lived to be 76 so he too still had 20 years left. I knew he didn’t. But like that little girl who used to beg every night for God to make him stop drinking I still on some level believed that maybe he would. I really wanted him to stop.
It scares me a lot. The way he just faded away.
I’m afraid that it might be easy, that it might happen without realizing it. That it might happen to me.
That you just live your life the way you’re supposed to; you wake up to your meaningless work every day, get married, have kids and when the years go by, you realize that none of it matters. It all feels nothing. And the weekend beer you used to have to relax and have fun has become the thing you use to numb yourself.
Maybe he wanted more from life. Maybe he didn’t know what he wanted.
Maybe he felt that he had made bad decisions in life but was powerless to change them.
Maybe he just never thought about what it was he wanted.
Or maybe he just never made an effort to go after his dreams.
Maybe he thought it would just happen.
And when he realized that the life wasn’t what he had expected, the bottle was the only thing to comfort him.
None of this is probably true. He was an addict. He started drinking very young. Alcohol abuse affects the brain, it makes you depressed, it makes the life feel like nothing.
I know he loved us very much. He once said to me that we were the only good thing he ever did.
But I can’t help but wonder whether he could have found a reason to stop. If he only had real passion in his life..That’s why I feel so important to do the things I dream about. Having a dog, having a business, living abroad; those were all my dreams. I want to have passion in my life. I want to feel. I rather feel bad than nothing at all.
And I guess that’s what the feeling is about. A reminder to look at my life and think, is this really what I want? Is this really where I wanna be?
And more importantly, what is my next dream?