Day: August 1, 2006

So, I never thought a dentist would make me swoon, and I never thought being viewed as young would be so startlingly appealing, but today? My dentist thought I was under the age of 30. Now, upon further reflection, I am wondering if he can see, or if he is perhaps going daft, but in the moment, it seemed like a really swell compliment. We were talking about my lower wisdom teeth, and he said, “Well, if you were 20, then there’d be no question, we’d take them out.” To which I replied, “Considering I’m nearly twice that, then, we won’t?” He turned and said, “Oh! Well. I didn’t realize you were over 30, no, we will just leave them where they are.” And I, the one who is firmly devoted to AGING GRACEFULLY and accepting myself and ignoring the Beauty Myth and Hollywood, that girl, I exclaimed, “OH MY Dr. Morgan, you certainly know the fastest way to my heart, hmm, thinking I’m under 30?!?” And that flustered him a bit, which was rather amusing, though I think we all know the notion of hitting on my nearly-60-year-old also-married dentist is about as absurd as me taking flight off of our rooftop with some Icarus wings in this heatwave; we then had a fairly one-sided conversation about how people’s ability to gauge age changes as you grow older. One-sided, because his hands were holding my mouth open and he was checking all my fillings.

The swooning, it was so fleeting.

That’s the title of a great John Prine album, the man can write songs that are breezy and fun, and he can write songs of great pain, real downers, songs that were slightly dangerous to me in my younger years before I figured out I was actually depressed.
Today I feel like a bruise, not fresh and purple, but yellow-orange and dispersed, still sore to the touch. Last night in the grief group, I shared pictures of my dad, and talked about him briefly while struggling to keep the tears from obliterating my power of speech. I went first, because I wanted to just do it, and not wait for my turn. It wasn’t easy for anyone to talk about their loved one – and I understand the importance of being able to do this, to keep them alive in a healthy way. But as I walked down the hallway towards the blazing asphalt and my car, my face screwed up and my shoulders shook as I lost, if only briefly, my battle with the sadness. I made sure I got some deep breaths & regained control before I got in my car.

I have a hard time allowing myself to remember anything about my dad right now, because at the same time the images comfort me, they pierce me, like a trumpet, the metallic sharpness cutting through with the reminder that he is gone, he is never coming back, we will never have new memories together, he isn’t going to call, he isn’t going to laugh with me, the credits have rolled and the movie has been played. I know that in time, these things will mellow, my memories will be easier to see and share again, I will not turn and avoid and pretend I do not have this bruise just to get through the day.