I want.... I want.....

How do I forget March 31^st.  How do I remove it from my memory?  Right now it is looming in the forefront like a tidal wave that is slowing forming, picking up mass and speed.  I have always had dreams (or maybe they are called nightmares) of standing on a beach when a tidal wave comes at me.  And I mean a BIG wave.  So tall I can’t jump up and ride the swell over it.  More like 40 feet tall.  When I saw the movie Deep Impact, it showed a giant tidal wave caused by the meteorite crashing to earth.  THAT is my dreammare.  I always wake up when the water starts to enclose me in terror.  I also have dreams of flying – without wings – anywhere and everywhere I want.  Sometimes I hit the ground and sometimes I get too high but I do so love those dreams.

 

I tried going to bed at a decent hour (11:30) and I laid there and tossed and turned thinking about everything all at once.  About Mary, her smile, the crash, Danny, what happens if….back to Mary and what I’m saying to that man in court.  Round and round in circles until my pillow is so wet and my nose is so stuffy I have to get up.  Sometimes I wake up my husband so I hold my breath and breathe slowly until I hear him snoring again.  No need bothering him.  We all have our demons. 

 

I am seeing the crash again as I drive to and from work or around town.  I catch myself shaking my head NO at no one in particular trying to say it didn’t happen.  I remember walking around shaking my head for days on end.  I kept repeating NO.....NO over and over again in between banging my head on the wall.  Then I moved to hitting the walls with my fist.  That hurt more than the head banging.  Trying to erase the reality I guess.

 

My urge to learn to paint is fizzling out.  My urge to do anything right now is starting to fade.  I know I can’t paint very well.  But my old habits of wanting to do something perfect, or at least really good, the first time is showing itself.  I know I don’t spend enough time actually practicing.  I know that’s the problem.  So what do I spend all my time doing when I’m not at work?  Cleaning, washing, sitting and staring and wishing I had the energy or urge to do something creative.  I don’t even write as much as I want.  I watch way too much TV but TV is a fantastic escape from reality.  Until you hit an episode that cuts your heart out.

 

I watched a new show called Past Life.  I got 10 minutes into the 2nd episode and they started talking about that “soul connection” two people have like when a child is hurt and the parent knows.  Well, that’s all for that show.  I have always wondered if that kind of thing really exists.  Do you have to be “special” to feel things like that?  Is that what being a psychic or medium is?  There’s sympathy and empathy – what’s the difference?  I think there’s a big difference.  I remember an episode of Star Trek about an “empath”. 

 

GOD, I hate feeling so lost and unattached.  Why is it that my mental feelings affect my physical body so much?  Sometimes I feel like I’m smothering and being squished.  And for those that tell people who have mental disorders to “get over it” or “get a life”...   I say…well....you know what I’d say.

 

I want Mary back.  I want my life back the way it was.  I want to not live on the edge waiting for the unforgivable to happen again.  I want to not feel terrified all day long.  I want…….. I want…… I want…..my Mary.

Why

Why do I sit and why do I wonder

Why do I try when I know I can’t

Why do I think and why do I question

Why do I cry when my heart is spent

Life is a bubble floating in sunlight

Colored and beautiful waiting to burst

Life is a dessert withered and scorched

Teasing mirages quenching my thirst

Save me from your reasons

Don’t lie with your heart

If truth is what you make it

Then love is all that’s left

When I am old and when I am silent

I will have many stories to share

No one will listen and no one will hear me

No one will care that I traveled this road

The Beach

At 2am on March 31, 2009 my life changed forever and I fell into an abyss of heartbreak that has yet to end.  But I can see a path even though I don’t want to follow it.

 

I was dropped from above on to a lonely dark beach.  There was a terrible storm and the waves and wind were all consuming.  The salt water stung my eyes while the wind whipped the sand over me and ate at my flesh.  The waves pelted me from all sides and the wind kept me pinned to the beach floor.  I could see no one because I couldn’t open my eyes.  I could hear no one because the storm was so loud.  I could feel no one because I thought I was alone. 

 

Later when I was able to open my eyes, I saw behind me past the beach was a forest of tall green trees bending to the screeching wind.  To my left the beach rose to meet the black rich dirt of the forest as a cliff was formed with mighty rocks and boulders below at the surfs edge.  The waves pelted the rocks showing only the razor sharp edges gazing at the slumped form laying on edge of the cliff above.

 

To my right was unending beach stretching for eternity but I could see other shapeless forms standing, kneeling, laying in the surf fighting the storm helplessly.

 

I stayed in the same place on this beach for months as the water and wind and salt ravaged my body and soul.  I could not reach out or talk to anyone else on the beach.  As time went by I noticed many of the shapes on the beach were gone.  They had either run into the forest or swam into the ocean or walked farther down the beach.  A few were still in the same place.  The shape on the cliff had moved closer to the edge.

 

Slowly the storm began easing up letting me finally take an uninterrupted breath but leaving me cold and shivering.  As the days went by I noticed that the waves had diminished but continually washed over me keeping me warm as I lay in the surf.  The salt still burned my eyes and the sand still scarred my skin but the wind had subsided. 

 

I would look down the beach for the others and saw a few still in the surf like me.  I watched the form on the cliff finally crawl into the forest and back to the cliff over and over again.  Looking for something to keep him warm but finding nothing.

 

Many sunrises and sunsets have come and gone since the storm changed my life.  The young man on the cliff has climbed down to sit with me instead of falling off the edge.  The ones left on the beach have walked around the edge of the forest and back looking for a path.  I can only see miles of unending beach waiting for me to walk it. 

 

But I like sitting in the beach puddles and letting the warm water wash over me.  Sometimes I wish the storm would come back so I could feel the strength of its power engulfing me.  This time, however, keeping me safe and far away from reality.

 

The ocean waves are memories of Mary. The forest is life continuing without me. The cliff is a quick answer.  The beach is a slow answer.  I need to stay close to the waters edge so as the tide comes and goes it can caress my soul.  Some days the waves are taller than I am and they overwhelm me and knock me down.  Some days they gently wash over my feet and the sand disappears from under me as I sink down.  I don’t want to move but the waves are carving a path down the beach. 

 

The young man beside me wants to walk away from the ocean and go into the forest.  I want him to walk with me down the beach where the others are patiently waiting for us.  It’s a hard decision for both of us.  It will be a long journey no matter which way we go.

Making mistakes

Wonder if I should take down my Christmas tree and stockings?  I’ve left them up because Mary would have.  She loved Christmas and never got to enjoy her tree very much in December because of her work schedule so she would leave the tree up till Feb or longer.  The tree has not lost any needles yet.  Haven’t had any fires so the candy in the stockings hasn’t melted.  There’s candy in Mary’s stocking.  Her favorite little chocolate balls.  If I take the tree down there will be a blank bare spot in the living room just like there is in my life.  Think I’ll leave it up a little while longer.  No one seems to mind.

Now that I’ve resigned myself not to worry about Julie’s divorce I have more time to think about Mary.  Which is both good and bad.  It takes forever to go to sleep at night even when I stay up long enough to fall asleep walking down the hall.  When I hit the pillows my eyes open and I get lost in memories or anger or helplessness or frustration.  Same with driving to and from work.  It’s the quiet times that are the hardest.

I watch Julie and the kids interact and I remember all the mistakes I think I made when raising my kids.  Oh, only if I had a chance to do it over again I would be such a better mom.  Not that I was terrible, just didn’t have a clue what I was doing in the high school years with Julie, learned some lessons and changed with Mary and Danny.  But didn’t really get most of it down until I had just Danny in high school.  And, our lives weren’t exactly the norm with his heart troubles.  But I did and do regret not giving the other two as much attention as I gave Danny.  Hind sight is perfect I know but second sight is better. 

I didn’t have my mom to go through adulthood with, no one to ask questions to, no one to get in the way of my perceived ideologies of raising children.  I wonder with Julie and the kids living here if I am going to make the same mistakes I made with Julie when she was growing up.  Am I going to smother her with opinions, stifle her personality with examples of how I think things should be?  I don’t know how three generations of Walton’s managed to live together under one roof without getting on each other nerves.  But then it was a TV show and they can re-write the scripts until they are picture perfect.  I do love Julie so much and I don’t want her to make the same mistakes I made raising her.  But then that’s what I said when she was growing up and I tried to not let her make mistakes.  But, everyone has to make them otherwise you never learn.  What, oh what and I going to do.  Mary would know. 

I know I sometimes sound like I think Mary was all wise and an expert in everything, like she’s my elder.  It’s just that with our heads together we could merge our ideas and come out on top.  We were braiding my thoughts, her thoughts and life and they all fit together.  I had a hard time letting her go off to live her life too.  People joke about apron strings but they are definitely there.  But I promised myself I wouldn’t hang on too tight like I did with Julie.  I am so sorry I did that to you, Julie.  I want you and your kids to have a better relationship than we had.  I think I loved you too hard and I think I’m doing it again.  But I will try to catch my self when I can see it happening and stop.  You need to make mistakes or at least what I perceive as mistakes, on your own.  Maybe they aren’t mistakes at all.  Maybe they are my own misguided ideas of how life should be.  What do I know?  Only that I love my family to the point of no return.  And that’s a fault I need to deal with.

Maybe

Maybe's

Maybe I shouldn’t stare at pictures of your face

Maybe I shouldn’t wear your clothes or hold on to your lace

Maybe I shouldn’t wile the hours thinking of you

But these are the shouldn’ts I don’t want to do

Maybe I should keep so busy I can’t see

Maybe I should stop and try to forget that awful scene

Maybe I should concentrate on living life today

But these are the shoulds I don’t want to do.

I can’t do nothing and I can’t do it all and I can’t find my way

The shoulds and shouldn’ts just confuse what’s left of my sanity

So I’m asking you please just to hold my hand

And let me find my peace anyway I can

Even when I shouldn’t be

Maybe I shouldn’t watch your video’s cuz they just make me cry

Maybe I should never look back and trade a smile for a lie

Maybe I shouldn’t wonder what would have been with you in my life

Maybe I should forgive and forget and trade peace for a lie

But I can’t, I won’t, I don’t know how, not sure if I want to

I need to hold you in my arms one more time to find what's true

I can’t do nothing and I can’t do it all and I can’t find my way

The do’s and don’ts just confuse what’s left of my sanity

So I’m asking you please just to hold my hand

And let me find my peace anyway I can

Even when I don’t want to

The Haunting

One of the phone calls I received at the hospital last week was from the DA in Hayesville.  The trial for Mary's killer will not happen until September and then there's no guarantee.  It was rather anti-climatic.  The little guy sitting on my shoulder kept telling me it would not be in February.  There is a court appearance due on Feb 15th.  We will be there with bells on.  Staring daggers through the back of his head.  

He is not truly remorseful or he'd just admit what he did and get it over with.  Every time we go to court it's as if the scene is played in slow motion over and over.  But we will go and haunt him. 

Terrified

I wrote that last entry a few hours before I found Danny laying on his sofa, shaking, coughing, and scared.  I felt his head and put a thermometer in his mouth.  Called Emory and then told him to put his feet in his slippers we were heading to Emory.  He had been sick for a few hours but didn't wake me.  Says he thought he would get over it.  His phone was too far away to call me.  It only takes a few hours to go from feeling fine to deathly sick for him.  We found this out almost exactly 2 years ago when the same thing happened, different illness, stronger heart.  

Last time we were both scared.  He had never been sick like this in his life, before or after transplant.  The attack was so fast it was mind boggling. It happened on a Monday night, this time was early Tuesday morning.  The ER was awesome.  There were doctors, nurses, needles, blankets, and machines all flying in and out of his room.  Within an hour and a half they had him in CICU hooked up to wires and tubes, taking more blood each hour for more tests.  The lesson I learned this time around is - coughing stresses your heart.  The lesson that was reinforced was - there's nothing you can do for a virus.  You just watch what it does and fight the fires.  

For 36 hours they didn't know what was wrong.  They pumped him full of various antibiotics, just in case...  Gave him Tamiflu... just in case...  (Found out that Tamiflu doesn't really do much for the flu.)  Once they found the virus they concentrated on his heart more.  Fightin' the fires...

My biggest fear was that if a heart "came in" (sounds so disassociated from real life) they would not give it to him because he had an infection.  But the doctor reassured me that a heart for him would be a one in a million and they would not pass it by, sick or not.  It sounds reassuring from one stand point but terrifying from another.  Later I had to ask the other obvious question - if a heart doesn't come fast enough what machines are available to keep him alive?  Emory does have machines to do this but have never been used on a transplanted heart.  Not sure what that means but I was not in the mood to question that.  

I said in my last entry that if something happened to Danny I would just go away.  If someone up there is playing with me, please stop. It's has pissed me off royally.  I do not need a rehearsal for life.  I do not need my words to be thrown in my face.  I do not need reminders of what waits around the corner ready to strike when you least expect.  Neither does Danny.  He gets scared and tries not to show it.  We just sit and hold hands and rub fingers together.  I must have kissed his forehead and cheeks a hundred times.  When they told me to put on a mask to protect me from the virus he had, it was way too late for that.  We were coming or going together.  

Kerry kept working to keep his mind from wandering. I came home each night, leaving Julie or Amanda to stay with him, but got little good sleep.  I wanted to be there but I have to be ready and able to be awake for a long time when they call with a heart.  

Two years ago I called Mary while waiting in the ER.  This time I called Tony.  Danny's brother from another mother.... I like that saying.  And my son-in-law.  That keeps him together with Mary.  You're only as strong as your weakest link.  Mary is/was my strong link.  I have too many weak ones, they may all pop at one time.  Julie has her babies to worry about.  Anna will be her strong link.