thoughts on the death of my father........ Virginia Barratt

it's very hard to give a name to or recognise what it is i am feeling about his absence. i just know that death is a hard thing to *know*. a concept i can't hold onto at all in my mind, not like denial, just... slippery, elusive... i know he's not here, but that's all i know, even after seeing him in the mortuary. i think it's because the institutionalised nature of death would have you believe that he's "at peace" or just sleeping or something. you can't get near to the death part cos there's so many layers of convention and regulation and institutionalisation between me and my dead dad. the ravages of death and the indignities of autopsy are all hidden by the white sheet of invisibility. the no-death of death. the "he's at peace" from the social worker guy at the mortuary. he was never peaceful in life and i don't think i ever saw my dad asleep! so the sleeping peace of death is a funny strange lie to my eyes... this morning i feel sad, but i don't even know if it's grief, just tiredness and wondering how i'm gonna pay the bills...