I'm not writing for pity, I wouldn't do that. I'm writing because I'm tired and more than wanting you to know that I'm tired, I'd like for me to wake up tomorrow and read this: HEY ALISON, YOU ARE TIRED. DO SOMETHING ABOUT IT. Parenthetically speaking, here's a suggestion: GO TO SLEEP. (Sorry, sometimes I need all caps to get the message.)
I'm writing because I miss my Father. Because he was the answer to everything and I'm lost without him now. And because when he couldn't be the answer, I was. We were a team, he and I. And I'm writing because I'm still not sure how to go from helping him out to leading the show. I'm writing because it's not fun without him and I never knew then, and wish I could tell him now, that I realize how much he did and maybe thank him again for all that he did because I thought I understood it then, and I really believed I was helping, but I get it now, I do. I was simply a companion on the ride.
I'm writing because I miss the woman my mother used to be and it's hard, so hard, to sit beside her and watch her leaving this world, watch her brunette hair turning grey, watch her eyes move past my face in a daze.
I miss it all, I do. I miss him and her, and I miss the children that my kids were, the freedom we danced upon when we all thought that my being Aunt Alison was all it would take.
I miss the love in our home, Cat saying, Love you, and Dad saying, Love you too too. I miss then, just then. The love, the fun, the thrill of family unique. Their exchange echoes in my head at night. Her voice: Love you. His voice: Love you too too.
We were musical then. Dreamy and musical. Memories do that, don't they? They spin and shine and I wonder if I'll one day look back at now and smile.
I miss him reminding me that no one said it would be easy. I miss him reminding me that destiny is only as much as and what you believe.
I'm tired. I'm tired of trying to be what I was so damn sure I would be, should be, but maybe can't be, I don't know. I'm tired of him being gone. I'm tired of her forgivable needs, tired of my unforgivable anger, my forgivable failure. I'm tired of the guilt and the battles that should never be, tired of the silent but enormous wall of denial. I'm tired of the shadow of her ever-presence. I'm tired of me. I'm tired of desperation, and tired of reality. I'm tired of the many things I am and the many more things that I am not. I'm tired of wondering who I'm fooling and knowing it's me, just me, and I cannot possibly do it alone.
I am one thing more: I am here. I am present. I believe that above all what matters is that I show up. For her, for him, and even you. It's what I do, I show up. I'm proud of that, I am. That is all I feel good about right now.
I'm tired of showing up and seeing that I'm building my hopes on dreams and chains.
Did I mention that I'm also angry? I thought it would be more, and in way, less. I thought he'd be here, always be here. For her, for me, for them. Blame it on my heart. Eight shades of grey out my window and I'm still blue. Blue like his eyes. Blue like my heart.
I'm tired of the Sea that I am, and I'm angry to be the water beneath the wind. Sometimes this heart of mine rages, even when it's calm. What does not change is his eyes. God I miss his eyes. They were blue like hope, blue like the Sea. Blue like my heart.
It's only love, doing this to me.
3 comments:
I'm sorry Alison, be kind to yourself.
Thanks for sharing your truth.
I recognize the difficulty of this period of your life; but from such a different perspective. I don't have the happy family memories you have...the sense of loss and rage that I felt was over the realization that I would never have those kind of family memories. But hurt, loss and anger are hurt, loss and anger no matter what their source. I can tell you from this place of time passing and age, that it does get better. Carmon
Alison, although it may not seem like it, it is cathartic that you can articulate all this. Be grateful for your natural verbalism talents.
I once read somewhere, that no matter how old you are when you lose your parents, you have to face all the feelings of being 'alone' and 'in charge'.
And I've often thought how devastating it would be for a child, to 'loose' one of their parents - while that parent was still 'alive'. My heart aches for you - with the situation with your mother. I truely think you are doing as well as anyone could do.
I was young when I lost my parents, so the deep grieving is long past - I just have real longings sometimes - for what might have been. There is always n empty spot inside.
My best girlfriend and I were the primary caretakers when her mother died, and at the time, I was almost grateful that both my parents were gone - so that I didn't have to look forward to going through that - to losing them.
I don't think there is any answer but time. And all you can do until that time, is just 'suit up and show up'. Exactly what you are doing.
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