April 7, 2006: "In 10 days, I will be 31 years old. I think it is safe to say that my life, my person, my right-at-this-moment are as real as it gets. I have always felt a little scattered, a little all over the place with my thoughts and my decisions, but right now I am in the very center of my life. It is amazing how much you can learn about yourself and your depth as a human being, when you find out someone you love is dying. Of all of the absolutes in the world, my mother dying of Cancer is one I can’t shake or deny, and I can’t sleep because all I think about is my life ending when hers does. Because without my mother, I won’t know who I am.”
April 8, 2006: "Today was hard. All of them are hard. My stomach hurts every second of the day. I am holding in every feeling I have ever had. I shut myself in the bathroom, run the tap, and cry. She doesn’t know that, but I think my Dad does. Her beautiful freckled face is twisted in pain, her eyes are tearing up and her lips are trembling. She holds my hand so tightly I actually think she will break it, and I don’t care. Fucking break it. I would not wish this on anyone…no one should ever see someone they love be totally obliterated by Cancer. It ruins you. I’m pretty sure I look as vacant as I feel. Mom, I just want to curl up next to you on your bed, like we used to. When we watched Natalie Wood movies, and you played with my hair, and we fell asleep holding hands. I miss the old days selfishly, because I’m not ready to lose you. I want things the way they were. “
When I look back on old journal entries, I liken it to being punched in the gut. All of those feelings I think I have sorted through, well, it’s like I haven’t sorted through a single thing. I am instantly angry, sad, and guilty. Old notes and journal entries remove me from the present, and bring me back to a time that I don’t want to revisit.
Writing all of the content for this blog has made me cry more times than I care to count. Last night I threw a tangerine across the room, because my loss was once again so raw, and I was so angry. With no angst towards tangerines, I realized that just when I thought I had run out of tears, and lost my ability to really “feel” things, re-reading these memories and journal entries have reminded me that I am alive. And that although I will never ever get over my loss, I actually did get through it. And that being mad and passionate sometimes causes one to throw perfectly plausible fruit.
Grief is just a part of love, and I believe that no matter how far we come through it, we continue to grieve because love doesn't die.
ReplyDeleteI'm sorry about the fruit (oh, how cathartic), but I am glad you feel alive. And I'm glad you shared something so personal too.