I can't articulate my thoughts right now.
It's 11:16. I just found out that Harla died earlier this afternoon. I don't know how to feel. And no one told me. I saw it on her son's facebook status. I knew she had two weeks to live--but it hasn't been two weeks yet. And the cancer hadn't seemed real. Harla hadn't felt real. She was my childhood secondmother. It's been a long time since my childhood. And now, now that I cannot say goodbye, it's all coming back. In her passing, she's re-entered my life.
She's my mom's best friend. My childhood best friend's mother. My cousin's best friend's mom. How do I say "I'm sorry for your loss" without sounding trite, without betraying my own tears? How do I express my own pain when it's all so distant? Years. Miles. Hugs. Truth.
My facebook status, left over from another day, is a quote from Mr. Magorium's Wonder Emporium.
"[We don't wait.] We Breathe. We Pulse. We Regenerate. Our hearts beat. Our minds create. Our souls ingest. Thirty-seven seconds, well used, is a lifetime."
I hope her last thirty-seven seconds felt like a lifetime. Why is it her lifetime has ended a rough decade after thirty-seven?
Why don't I ever say goodbye? Doris (another childhood second mother). Grandpa. I knew they had limited time. But I can't say goodbye. I can't aknowledge what's happening--until it's over. Until I am powerless. Yet I always wish we'd been given a warning with Estrella. Would I have found it in myself to do anything even if we'd been given the time and date of her accident?
Justin never got to see Harla before she died. Her oldest son. The one in jail for a crime he never committed.
I don't know what this means.
Do I cry for myself? For the family? For Harla? For my her best friend, my mom? Or for the thought that this could be not my childhood second mom, but my real mom? That one day it will?
I'm lost.
Chelsi is here. We're going to go watch The L Word. I'm going to get lost.
I'm sorry. If you need anything, please call. I really don't exactly how you feel, and this totally may not help at all. But if nothing else I think you'll appreciate it for it's poetic qualities:
ReplyDeleteYesterday I Cried by Iyanla Vanzant
I came home, went straight to my room,
sat on the edge of my bed,
kicked off my shoes,
unhooked my bra,
and I had myself a good cry.
I’m telling you,
I cried until my nose was running all over
the silk blouse I got on sale.
I cried until my ears were hot.
I cried until my head was hurting so bad
that I could hardly see the pile of
soiled tissues lying on the floor at my feet.
I want you to understand,
I had myself a really good cry yesterday.
Yesterday, I cried,
for all the days that I was too busy,
or too tired,
or too mad to cry.
I cried for all the days, and all the ways,
and all the times I had dishonored,
disrespected, and
disconnected my Self from myself,
only to have it reflected back to me
in the ways others did to me
the same things I had already done to myself.
I cried for all the things I had given,
only to have them stolen;
for all the things I had asked for that
had yet to show up;
for all the things I had accomplished,
only to give them away,
to people in circumstances,
which left me feeling empty,
and battered and plain old used.
I cried because there really does
come a time when the only thing left
for you to do is cry. Yesterday, I cried.
I cried because little boys get
left by their daddies;
and little girls get forgotten by their mommies;
and daddies don’t know what to do, so they leave;
and mommies get left, so they get mad.
Yesterday, I cried.
I cried because I hurt.
I cried because I was hurt.
I cried because hurt has no place to go
except deeper into the pain that
caused it in the first place,
and when it gets there,
the hurt wakes you up.
I cried because it was too late.
I cried because it was time.
I cried because my soul knew that I didn’t know
that my soul knew everything I needed to know.
I cried a soulful cry yesterday,
and it felt so good.
It felt so very, very bad.
In the midst of my crying,
I felt my freedom coming,
Because Yesterday,
I cried with an agenda
Thank you Michael, that was beautiful.
ReplyDelete