Which is better? Worse? I’m trying to find that place in between. A resting place so I can gather the strength for the reminders.
Amputee’s can feel their limbs years after they’re gone. I can feel Mary. When I close my eyes I can feel Mary’s hugs around my shoulders when she walks in the door on a , my hand touching her cheek to remove the dirt after planting flowers, her breath on my neck as we study the zipper that didn’t fold properly, the love in her voice when she talks about Tony or scolds the kids. These are the “good” memories I guess everyone is telling me about. They come and go but they hurt more than they help right now.
Everyone’s wish is to die peacefully in their sleep. And actually it’s what we, who are left behind, want to have happen to those we love so we can have peace. But this time it didn’t happen that way. This creates visions, and with them the lack of peace, guilt for not being there, questions of suffering, the impossible task of trying to change the outcome, and, of course, the hate. No matter what I read, what is told to me, what I hope happened, the vision of the crash attacks me at any time, anywhere, and it hurts. Hurts for all kinds of reasons. I can actually feel the weigh of that truck boring down on my chest and legs. If I’m driving I have to pull over. Maybe this isn’t healthy, maybe it is, I don’t know. I just know it happens and I can’t stop them. Maybe one day Mary will talk to me and tell me she didn’t feel anything or know anything. Maybe they will stop on their own somehow. Until then, I have to live with them. If ever I want to talk to DUI offenders I will be able to paint a most vivid picture of what will happen. How with the blink of an eye they can change peoples lives forever, but not in a good way. One day I just may do that.
I picked up the thank you notes I had printed. They have pictures of Mary on the front and back. You can frame either one of them. I did this on purpose. The one of the front came off of Mary’s computer. I guess Tony took it but Mary played with it in Photoshop. It is beautiful. So now, once again, I delve back into the consciousness of loss. The beautiful people who took care of us deserve acknowledgement, to know that without them we would be no where. Those that serve, that constantly listen, that forever hug us are what keeps me together.
I birthed you but I did not bury you.
Your spirit can never be put to rest, it is everywhere I am.
In my wordless thoughts, my waterless tears you are present.
As I grow old, you will not.
Your face will never change, your smile is the sunrise now.
Faithful and constant as each day is, without surprise or impulse.
I run away, but find I cannot.
There is no peace in seeing what you’ve never seen, you should have.
They are just reminders, not memories, of what is left unsaid forever.
Tears come and go, but do not stop.
They are for the loss that the world will never know.
Heart pains are present felt by all those you love.
Talking merely echoes the knowledge.
Having to say was instead of is or did instead of does.
This reality is too intense. So, I don’t.
In my dreams you have not appeared yet.
My sleep is ragged, afraid of the pictures that might emerge.
So I nap in chapters of the night not resting, hiding.
My smiles are without heart, empty.
People I love try to cheer me but all in vain.
My pain is their pain and I am sorry for that.
One day you’ll speak my name.
Press on my heart and touch my soul for comfort.
On that day I will rejoice and life will start again.
Until then…. reminders, visions, and memories fill my life.