When a parent dies. One who you have been close to for the entirety of your life you go through a period of immediate grief. The world that you took for granted is on its ear and the compass governing your daily actions simply spins about no longer reliable of providing a viable direction. The firmament under you feet sinks deep into the bottom of the ocean like the scene on the deck of the Titanic five minutes after the stern has gone under. All creaks and groans squeezed out of collapsing superstructure. The life taken up at the ocean’s bottom becomes a murky entity somehow still connected to the remnants of the one surviving in a lifeboat far above waiting for someone from the world of the still living to rescue you.
As the next years progress, you find yourself back on land but in a place now estranged of that former sense of comfortable assurance that life goes on without interruption. Nothing has any sense of longevity beyond your memories. You find yourself walking around mindless of your own utterances. The dead speaking through your own tongue in little phrases and expressions of everyday parlance. A continual mental censure when lapsing from those once accepted ways of doing things giving instant pause to new actions errant or otherwise. Thoughts about former pondering’s augmenting former discussions left unfinished about hopes and dreams now left untended. The ability to conjure desired items that were never introduced but still yearn to be introduced. And then, there are funny thoughts like recollections of eras where men customarily put on their shoes and socks before hoisting them through their voluminous pants legs. The dead have taken over your being as if they had never left from your immediate presence to begin with. As with life so with its conclusion. Eternity being within your own consciousness alone.