"...Pushing you away before you walk away, hurts a lot less in the end." These words have passed through my lips, entered your ears, and appeared to have registered with your brain. I have been fooled. Either these words did not register, or you tricked me into opening up to you.
Dick.
You begged and pleaded, practically got down on your knees and cried at my feet. You were eager to gain the knowledge of the truth, of the feelings, the thoughts in my head; swore they would be sacred to you, that you wouldn't do a thing to hurt me.
I was reluctant. I hesitated. Thought you might be just like the others. Then something happened. I cannot describe it, because I'm not sure what the trigger was. But for whatever reason, I felt it comfortable enough to divulge such information to you.
And where did you go? I'm not sure. But your current location is not what's important. For it does not matter where you are, it matters where you're not.
...And that's here.
Thanks for helping me justify old habits which have protected me from people like you in the past. I will continue to do so, despite your efforts to try and change me forever.
Just another one to add to the list. Another statistic.
That's all you are to me now.
Be seeing ya.
Monday, November 17, 2008
Thursday, November 6, 2008
October twenty-seventh.
October 27th came and went as it does every year. Of my twenty-something years I can clearly remember fourteen of those October 27ths.
I have bittersweet sentiments regarding Autumn. The changing of the leaves, slight chill in the air, clear sunsets. It's my favorite time of year. But with that cold chill comes memories. Some good, most bad. I know that things would be different today had things been different in the past. But I also know that everything happens for a reason.
The past eight October 27ths (as well as the past eight August 13ths) I have spent alone. Thinking. Dreaming. Wishing. Desperately trying to pry open locked filing cabinets in my mind containing valuable memories only I know exist. Stories would never do them justice. The smells need to be inhaled; the nerves, touched; faces, seen; and voices, tickle every bit of my insides.
Instead, I settle for stories. Because the keys to those filing cabinets have been missing for fourteen years. 5,110 days. Give or take. But I dump the filing cabinet? Never. The key could turn up. All hope cannot be lost.
This October 27th was spent in a hospital. As well as this August 13th. I strayed away from routine for the sake of my sick father. The "miracle man" who keeps miraculously getting better. Or did.
****************
I know that she wouldn't've minded. In fact, she would've much preferred me where I was. She wishes I would be at his side every October 27th. But I am not. Not every October 27th. Because there were October 27ths that I was traveling, working, sick, busy, far, far away. And there were October 27ths that my father did not want to see me. Or any other day in October, November, December, and so on.
No matter what the circumstance, I always made an appearance to where I felt in my heart I needed to be on that day. And then it became the place to be. The thing to do. The spot to visit. The peace I needed. The view that took my breath away. The place I thought about crying, but never actually did because I am not a crier (years or pretending to be tough with eventually make you tough).
And this October 27th, I felt I betrayed her by not visiting. Thought she might not be able to find me if I wasn't where I normally am on this day every year. Hoped she didn't get lost up there in the dark looking for something that wasn't there to begin with.
But then I realized. She was right by my side all along. And not because she had been following me, not even because it's "our special day". But because right where I needed to be is right where she needed to be too. At his side. Whispering in his ear. Loving so much that the room filled up and no one else could squeeze in there with us.
Sorry, Mom. I didn't make it up there to "our spot" this year. The day that marked the fourteenth year you left me. But I will be there soon. Because I need to be. Because I want to be. Because I can be.
Dad says "hi."
I have bittersweet sentiments regarding Autumn. The changing of the leaves, slight chill in the air, clear sunsets. It's my favorite time of year. But with that cold chill comes memories. Some good, most bad. I know that things would be different today had things been different in the past. But I also know that everything happens for a reason.
The past eight October 27ths (as well as the past eight August 13ths) I have spent alone. Thinking. Dreaming. Wishing. Desperately trying to pry open locked filing cabinets in my mind containing valuable memories only I know exist. Stories would never do them justice. The smells need to be inhaled; the nerves, touched; faces, seen; and voices, tickle every bit of my insides.
Instead, I settle for stories. Because the keys to those filing cabinets have been missing for fourteen years. 5,110 days. Give or take. But I dump the filing cabinet? Never. The key could turn up. All hope cannot be lost.
This October 27th was spent in a hospital. As well as this August 13th. I strayed away from routine for the sake of my sick father. The "miracle man" who keeps miraculously getting better. Or did.
****************
I know that she wouldn't've minded. In fact, she would've much preferred me where I was. She wishes I would be at his side every October 27th. But I am not. Not every October 27th. Because there were October 27ths that I was traveling, working, sick, busy, far, far away. And there were October 27ths that my father did not want to see me. Or any other day in October, November, December, and so on.
No matter what the circumstance, I always made an appearance to where I felt in my heart I needed to be on that day. And then it became the place to be. The thing to do. The spot to visit. The peace I needed. The view that took my breath away. The place I thought about crying, but never actually did because I am not a crier (years or pretending to be tough with eventually make you tough).
And this October 27th, I felt I betrayed her by not visiting. Thought she might not be able to find me if I wasn't where I normally am on this day every year. Hoped she didn't get lost up there in the dark looking for something that wasn't there to begin with.
But then I realized. She was right by my side all along. And not because she had been following me, not even because it's "our special day". But because right where I needed to be is right where she needed to be too. At his side. Whispering in his ear. Loving so much that the room filled up and no one else could squeeze in there with us.
Sorry, Mom. I didn't make it up there to "our spot" this year. The day that marked the fourteenth year you left me. But I will be there soon. Because I need to be. Because I want to be. Because I can be.
Dad says "hi."
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