Tuesday, January 25, 2011

From the Archives.

I found this post, buried in the "dark days of 2007" (February 21 to be exact).  It's a reminder of how far I have come but the shadow of her death still creeps around from time to time.  It's a painful post but one of growth.  I found it particularly interesting to read now that I'm studying addiction.  My words than ring so true to the millions of people who have loved ones suffering from the disease of addiction.  I could sit and psychoanalyze every word, every sentence and every emotion but I will let it be what it is: a stepping stone in my journey to hope and of course, my journey into my future....    


Today I needed you and you weren't here.  Today I saw him weak and tired and scared and mean and you weren't here.  I waited for this day because I knew it would come but mabye, somehow I was hoping that I wouldn't have to see him without you.  My stomach felt what my heart couldn't anymore.  I was so nauseous when my eyes met his.  He's not who he was six months ago.  He's not the person behind his name.  He's not my brother.  He's not your son.  You weren't there when I needed you more than I have since you've been gone, but that's okay.  He looked into my eyes mom and all I could see was darkness, all I could see was a funeral, all I could see was nothing.  I was filled with fear and I still am mom.  I just wish you were hear to unload this heartache from my body.  All I can feel is fear.  I don't know if my fear is for him or for me, without you. 

Sometimes life without you seems unbearable.  I know everything I am handed in life is bearable but your absence makes it feel different, like it takes more work to make it bearable.  Sometimes I want to stay in bed until you come back.  Sometimes I realize I'd be a waste of a human being and other times I still think you'll come back.  Even going to Target is unbearable.  I know you are laughing, and I know you might find me to be ridiculous with the whole Target thing but let me explain...Our Target in Fridley got demolished and rebuilt.  We, you and I, went there a lot, right?  Right.  Well, I can't walk through the new Target doors, ever, without thinking you haven't walked through those doors.  It sucks mom.  Most times I have a bitter taste about it, other times I just go to a different Target.  I wonder when these buildings will stop having significance just because you're dead. 

If you came back, the drive to Megan's wouldn't be as boring anymore.  There are shoppes all along 65 now.  Megan's my best friend now mom.  She's both our best friends.  Sometimes I wonder how awful my life might be today without her.  I wonder too, if you and her found each other in life for me because I wasn't going to have anyone after you die.  It's wierd to think about.  I miss our drives to Megan's no matter how much I complained.  Even when you're 13 years old 20 minutes feels like an hour but I knew our time on that drive was time I spent with a "time-limited" mom and I always cherished them. 

He's empty.  He's not who you named, he's not who you loved, he's not even who you kicked out of your house, yet he's all of that, just empty.  His life is gone now.  All I can do is resist my heart from aching because I can't lose another one.  It's not easy without you mom and it hurts like hell right now.  It's not easy to be alone but it's what you did for 8 years with cancer.  I shouldn't complain to you.  You knew you had people, just like I know I have people, but regardless of the support I have...I'm still alone in my fight against his emptiness.  How do you fill a person with life when he kills all the life he has left?  You don't.  You can't. 

There are days I'm mad at you mom, not for dying but because you were the only person that got what I got.  Maybe I have fictionalized you in my mind so we agree on everything, so I have something to talk to and someone to hear me.  In my mind, you see how I see.  I am you in a sense.  It's funny how I've become you and only know it because your friends tell me.  Maybe you gave me this ability to stay strong.  You gave me an ability to go on when I'm hurting.  I can't believe how sad I am, yet I feel so rewarded.  You gave me something that has allowed me to go on with my life despite your death.  I'm okay without you mom.  He's not. 

You fought so hard for your life so you could watch us grow into adults.  You fought so hard for your life because you believed in living even in pain.  He doesn't.  He's fighting his life for death.  There is nothing so lonely to watch than a man with more hope for death than life.  He hates himself and I love him but it's not good enough, it's not strong enough, it's not perfect enough.  My love can't be stronger than the drug. 

I'm not ready to be alone mom.  I'm not ready to be without his emptiness no matter how much it hurts.  I know I can remain strong and I know I can see this hardship through no matter what the outcome.  I'm just not ready for another crack in my heart.  Not yet. 

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