August 24, 2011
Crickets try to hypnotize me as I sit here, a cool breeze coming from the patio door.
I am getting better at sitting with myself. Alone. Absorbing the moment. Slowing down. It is hard for me. My muscles are tired, running from my feelings. I need to catch up with myself.
And what better place than in this space I have created myself. My woman cave. You would love it here.
A remnant of a dream. “Mom, you will love it here. The colors are amazing when the winds blow.”
I haven’t seen you in awhile.
Last night I dreamed you.
At 6 a.m., not ready to leave thatworld where dreams take place, I reached over hitting the alarm button. Off.
To be with you again.
I cried out.
I was lost. I was alone. I was panic stricken. On a tour in a foreign county I got left behind. With no luggage, no purse, no i.d., no money. Nothing to define me. To prove to anyone who I was. I could not go anywhere. I had nowhere to go. The harder I fought it, the more panicked I became. I was shouting at everyone, and no one. I was screaming fiercely from a primal place.
My voice was getting hoarse. Nobody understood me. So they got angry. The angrier they became, the more I screamed back at them. I only wanted them to hear me. Finally, I understood. I was defeated. In that moment, I felt you.
The warmth of you around me.
I dissolved. Every nerve released. You touched my shoulders, pulled me around so I could see that it was you.
“I will take care of you,” you said, “ I am with you.”
And you were. Everywhere.
How could I wake up from that?
I did not want to.
I settled for just another hour with you.
Then just like every morning, I got up with echoes of you inside of me.
There are so instructions for this. No self help books. Nothing to describe the private hell of this.
I was going to conquer my grief like I have conquered every other shit hole deal that came my way. But I have been humbled, conquered by your absolute absence.
There are no stages to my grief. It has been a constant not wanting to accept this--because I cannot absorb it.
I whisper as I type these words, “Andrea. I wish you were here with me.”
I stop and wait for the next sentence to form. An answer. The curser blinks, blinks, blinks. Like a foot tap tapping impatiently. I tell it wait.
You have passed through me.
You have passed away from me.
Now. You are with me.