Friday, June 4, 2010

Finding Forty, Day 9: Onward

Tonight I feel like I have nothing to say that is in any way focused or seamless.   And for the record,   I'm sober, tired, and completely pmsing.

We met A's sister downtown for drinks tonight and it was an interesting experience.   She is newly (in the past year) divorced and in all honesty, when I sit across from her, I feel this tide of jealousy washing over me.   I'm envious of her ability to just make a decision and move forward.   I'm envious that the new love she found was single and stable and is ever present in her life.   I'm envious that her turmoil, for the most part, is over and done with.    And yet, as jealous as I am, I can't see myself in her shoes or anywhere near.

On the drive home, A started talking about something he'd heard or read about kids who lose a parent while growing up.   Granted,  I didn't lose my mom as a child, but in my heart, I still felt a child.   When I visited her, I still let her mother me, with her cooking all of my meals, gathering all of my dirty clothes to wash before packing up to head home, kissing me goodnight with puckered lips before going to bed.   While chronologically, I was 33 when she died, I still felt like an unsure, insecure 10 year old.

Having someone so close to  you really fucks you up.   I know that sounds like I'm stating the obvious, but because life moves on (and it must), it really is hard to gauge all the subtle ways that losing someone so incredibly special to you affects you.    Clearly, I am still dealing with the fall out from her death.  I still look to her for guidance, seek her comfort and pray for her to visit me at night, while I dream, to help bring some clarity to this mess that is my life.

Because I know the piercing pain of loss, I constantly grapple with these questions.  Should I be grasping onto every opportunity as if it were my last?   Should I dance and live like tomorrow might be my last day?   Or do I turn inward and give thanks for all of the blessings before me, never longing for more than what I've got?  

Most likely, the answer lies somewhere in between, but that is so hard to see and believe when  you're in the midst of the storm.

I'm melancholy tonight.   I feel stupid and confused.  If I could will myself to feel certain things, believe specific beliefs, orchestrate certain outcomes,  I would.

I want to push through this impasse and start working on the next stage of this mess called life.

Moving onward,

1 comment:

  1. You aren't, well, weren't stupid and confused...well maybe confused, but not stupid.