Messages From Death

Chapter 1: 3 Weeks

grief: (noun) deep sorrow, especially that caused by someone's death.

Three weeks ago yesterday (Friday), I was woken up to my mom telling me my father was hit by a car while walking in the parking lot at work. It was 8am. My life since then has been a whirlwind to say the least. Today (Saturday) three weeks ago, within 24 hours of my dad being hit he was pronounced brain dead. That following Monday, he was taken off life support due tto being an organ donor and pronounced legally dead. 59 years old, full of life, always a dreamer but even more of a doer, and above all a great guy robbed of life by a selfish act by someone else.

Life really has an interesting way about it. There's so much irony in the situation some I will speak on as I write, others I'm not supposed to speak about (for now). But now there's some background and all I can say is to anyone who actually reads this book ( if you wish to call it that) I don't want anyone feeling pity towards my dad, my family, nor myself. This isn't the purpose for me writing, if anything its my way of working through the grieving process, trying to heal myself, and hopefully help others heal as well.  With all that being said let's dive in.
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3 weeks.

Three whole weeks. Within these weeks I have made countless phone calls, comforted many people, said goodbye to my dad, lost my insurance, planned a funeral, as of a few days ago had said funeral, did my first ever eulogy, went to a wedding the following day, had at least 2 maybe 3 panic attacks (so far), contemplated ruining my sobriety by drinking again or trying cocaine, got new insurance, been to quite a few drag shows, signed up for a sugar daddy website then deleted my account all in the same day, did two livestreams for work, got two friends into peaky blinders (now they both are falling for Queen Polly Gray), had two drunk older women cry for me during a drag brunch in the bar's bathroom, kissed a girl i liked again, got into a few verbal fights, and made an extremely unfortunate amount of dead dad jokes. Long story short, I think I'm handling this grieving thing well.

Food is hard, incredibly hard. I've had an ED since I was in elementary school and this past year worked incredibly hard to overcome it. A month or so ago I started slipping and now, don't even ask. I managed to eat little meals throughout the day some days but others it's hit or miss.

Sleep. What's sleep? I can't sleep alone and at night is when the darkness I can block out during the day comes storming back into my mind. All I see is my dad with the tubes down his throat having air pumped in and out of him. He wasn't human anymore at that point and honestly since then I feel like I lost my humanity too. If I do sleep on the couch I get paralyzed over and over which leads to my having terrible headaches and anxiety then. Sleep is meant to be peaceful but I fear it. It also doesn't help that ever morning I wake up to something. It's been that way everyday for 3 fucking weeks. Always something new, someone with an update, some type of drama, and/or some other situation happening. One day of a normal morning would be nice.

Acting. I was told from people immediately after I told them my dad was dying that I was to "man up" now. I was the one to take over and basically fill my father's spot, role, place, part, whatever you wish to call it in our family. I'm trying. All the people telling me this are people who are never around. Literally never around. I stepped up immediately at 8am on Oct. 22nd, 2021, and I mean immediately. So since that moment I have been acting. I don't cry unless I'm alone or if I do slip up and start crying in front of others I pull it together quickly. I smile and do my job of being the comic relief to everyone. I laugh, joke, dance around, dress up, take care of myself, and make sure I look and act how I did before all of this happened. When it gets too much I let my brain go into "Polly Gray mode" where it takes all the heavy stuff I personally can't. (Thank you Helen McCrory!)

Life during these past 3 weeks have felt like a fever dream. I realized so much and it still doesn't feel real. Nothing feels real. It's all moving in slow motion but also a blur at the same time. I feel like I'm drowning and right when I hit the surface to gasp for air i'm pushed back into the murky depths again. I hope not for my sake but for my family's sake, especially my mother's, that we find safety on the shore soon. Until then, I hope I'm brave enough to face all the waves.