Chapter 1
Journal Entry for Friday September 12, 1997
I'm getting ready to see my damn psychiatrist now. Which means I have only 40 minutes to come up with a decent journal entry here.
My dad's funeral was yesterday, and let me tell you, it wasn't easy. My mom just bawled the entire time. I cried some, but not a lot. That's typical for me though. I'm just not a big crier when people die. It's just not my way of coping with the loss of a loved one. My grandma (Tim's mother) was there. She didn't cry much either. Really it was more of a dry sob in her case.
I still feel emotionally numb, like I can't even believe that any of this is happening. I just feel like I'm partially responsible. Like I could have done something to keep this from happening. Now, I know this is impossible, but still… Let's see, who else was there? Of course my dad's brothers were, Al and Heidi and Lisa were there. Wilson was there too. Obviously my brothers were there.
I'm not sleeping much at night, even though my damn psychiatrist has prescribed me some sort of narcotic (which I refuse to take because I don't want to get addicted).
You know, I've always thought it was funny how people bring food to the family when someone dies. Nobody in the family feels like eating if someone just died. It just annoys me. I mean, I swear to God, the next person who gives us a damn loaf of bread will get it shoved down there fucking throat! I just wonder how dad would be reacting if he was here to see all of the things going on. He'd probably want to know why no one has brought us Polish food from Stan's.
Well, I guess my 40 minutes is just about up.
-Randy