Prey, I Am

By P. Moore

Reflection after the death of a parent is all the more difficult when the dynamics include trauma. The taboo nature of trauma helps hide and protect behaviors that pervade our culture and harm the future.
Snippets of memoir bring into light the journey some must take to survive.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Lulu.com
• Release date: Jan 10, 2016
• ISBN: 9781329822160

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Prey, I Am

Prey, I Am

By: P. Moore

Copyright © 2016 by P. Moore

All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof

may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever

without the express written permission of the publisher

except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

Printed in the United States of America

First Printing, 2016

ISBN: 978-1-329-82216-0

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1 Daddy Died

SITTING IN HIS RECLINER, leaning to one side, I can feel my calves cooling.  I wonder if the heat needs to be on in spite of the spring thaw.  The smell of his chair changed within days of his entrance into the hospital.  Now, even months after his death, I still find the difference of smell compelling.  I can sit in his chair without the panic.  At first it was a slight release and then larger as time moves.  My calves are getting cooler still and I start to fidget.  Then it spreads further throughout my legs and into my torso.  The room falls silent through my own instincts.  In reality, the TV is on with whatever show is entertaining the others in the room.  My instincts are silent and trying to listen until I hear the music coming from my mother’s room.  She is playing the blues with the door closed either to fall asleep or drown her thoughts.  I can feel the pull to check on her and feel the sadness within the circumstances.  There is no way to make her feel better.  There is no way to change how I feel.  And there is no way to explain the dynamics that led to this day and I won’t attempt to.

He was cremated as he would wish.  He now sits on the bookshelf to create closure for my sister and any others that may benefit.  He died in the hospital a death that no one wishes for another.  I hope that the modern day medicine relieves pain as much as it seems in the times that sedation is implemented.  He died in a hospital gown not feeling much dignity.  After his death, his bathrobe was cremated with him.  That was not specified as a wish, it was a wife’s attempt to return some dignity and give comfort. 

The night he died was compelling.  His wife wailed over his body in hope for just one minute that he could return to her.  She threw her torso onto his, spreading her arms to soak up as much of him as she could.  Her body was begging him to come back.  Soothing words to him among the bitter unexpressed anger within made sure he knew of her needs and made sure her love was expressed.

The doctors and nurses were clearly familiar with the process and well trained for empathy and efficiency.   As much time as desired was given while expressing sorrow and informing next steps.  I found this intriguing given they did not know him.  They had no inclinations about him.  

2 Uninhibited Expression

I HADN’T HEARD MY PHONE RING.  These cell phones are still something to get used to.  It was already abundantly obvious that I only obsessed about my phone when one of the kids was not home; other than that, it was around somewhere.  I became much more obsessive with the dam thing one day at a time.  I might obsess about my phone for the remainder of my days.  I heard my husband’s phone ring.  Since this wasn’t the first time his phone rang for me, I knew through my