August 24, 2011

Hey You

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.

                                    Love,

                                     Mom