Suddenly

A few hours ago, I found out that my uncle died. I feel nothing. Not denial. Not grief. Just words of a song, For I am too weak for real emotions.

My uncle died today.

Suddenly.

Technically, he died yesterday, but they found him today.

Dead.

In his apartment.

It was probably heart failure, they say.

It doesn’t really matter.

He's dead.

My uncle died yesterday.

Suddenly.

Not He-was-sick-but-would-probably-make-it Suddenly.

Not It-was-a-one-in-a-million-chance Suddenly.

Just suddenly.

He dropped dead on his way to bed.

Or out of bed.

We don't know.

We didn't know.

We had plans to meet during the weekend.

My uncle died yesterday.

He's dead.

I'll never see him again.

I'll never talk to him again.

He's dead.

End of story.

Finita la commedia.

My mother is in shock.

My father is in shock.

My grandparents are in shock.

My newly orphaned cousins are in shock.

(Those that are old enough to know and understand).

I am not.

I loved my uncle.

Probably.

Maybe.

Who knows?

I don't.

I didn't want him to die.

I don't want my family to feel bad.

But that's about it.

I'm beyond !The Shock! and denial.

Not because I am stronger than others;

I'm not.

Not because I'm better than others;

I'm not.

I understood.

My uncle is dead.

That's it.

The end.

I want to feel shock.

Maybe.

I want to feel pain.

Maybe.

I want to feel something.

Definitely.

Instead, there is nothing.

A blank slate.

Grayness.

…

I feel bad that my mother is sad.

At least that counts for something,

Right?

But who's counting?

Who counts but me?

My uncle is dead.

Dead.

Dead.

Dead.

I let that thought ring.

It leaves no mark.

'Yes', I say, 'my uncle is dead.

'So what?'

(Not out loud!

Never!)

It's not that I don't care.

I do care.

I think.

I hope.

But that's that.

My uncle is dead.

And that's that.

No more.

'Say something!' I cry into my head.

(Never out loud!)

'Do something!

Feel something!'

But I'm me.

And I know me.

I think.

And who would take advice

from a guy like me?

Not me.

That I know.

I want my mother to be happy.

I want my grandparents to be happy.

I wanted my uncle

(he's dead now)

to be happy.

So I hug them in their pain.

I say “that's terrible.”

And think that it really is.

I say “it's all so stupid.”

And believe that it really is.

I say “life's a b***h.”

And know that it really is.

But do I feel it?

I don't feel sad.

Or angry.

Or confused.

Or in shock.

Or at loss.

I feel

Nothing.

Grayness.

…

I take my dog out for a walk.

And think about my friends.

And think about work.

And think about writing songs for dead uncles.

Is this denial?

(Am I in denial about being in denial??)

I don't thinks so.

There's no denying:

My uncle is dead.

I move on.

Not because I am strong enough to leave it all behind,

But because I was too weak to grab onto it in the first place.

In a few days, during the funeral and Shiva,

My mother will mourn.

My father will mourn. 

My grandparents will mourn.

My newly orphaned cousins will mourn.

(By then they'll all be old enough to understand).

Will I?

I doubt it.

Do I feel sad that I feel nothing?

I should.

But that would be a paradox.

A thought paradox.

A feeling paradox.

And those make my head hurt.

So I think that I'll go to sleep.

Author's Note

In (sorrily?) apathetic memory of my dead uncle Yoav Ben-Dov
May he rest in peace.
08/12/2016     01:46 AM