Tag: loss

There Is a Sadness…

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…that sits with me. It has been a part of my life for as long as I can remember. It came with the knowledge. There is a period in every human’s life where we live blissfully unaware. Unaware of the things that change us and shape us into the adults we will become. I have always believed that we are all born with the same potential. We are all capable of achieving great things for ourselves and for those truly gifted, maybe the world. People in general, are also hopelessly flawed, {{{sigh}}}. In a quest to fix themselves they often push their failed dreams and inspirations onto their children, or there is mistreatment, judgment, and abuse. I love my family but like most families we had our ups, downs, and weirdness.

My knowledge came the day my little girl soul realized I was not loved or wanted as equally as the others. I have been treated differently my whole life. I am that kid that colors outside the lines. I am that kid that daydreams in your class because I am beyond what you are teaching. I am at that kid that craves to know WHY over everything that I find curious. I am at that kid who will drive you to the brink of anger but, I will not understand what I have done to put you there. I am that kid that relates to you by telling you a story of a similar nature to how you are feeling so I can avoid being told…you can’t possibly understand how I feel. I am a terrible listener, because the truth is I probably can’t or don’t want to because I always felt that NOBODY ever cared how I felt. So, sadness came to sit with me.

SADNESS and I have known each other for a very long time. I am fairly adept at managing it but occasionally just for a change of pace, life intervenes and then I find SADNESS holding my hand, making my decisions, borrowing trouble so ANGER can come for lunch.

Lately, I have been putting myself through the ringer. My older sister passed away in August. While we were not close and really had not been a part of each other’s lives for quite a while, I loved her. My inner child pines for days gone by, when we were children and all of the world’s wrath had yet to unfold on us. (DARK? sorry that’s how I feel) but we all know that life consistently rolls forward with or in this case without you. I hate to cry but as I age, I find myself getting really good at. I do not enjoy when I feel myself welling up over shit that I would not have spent more than a few seconds of apathy on in my youth. Who is this old lady that inhabits my soul? I told you ANGER has come for a visit. The realization of me being the only peep still carrying the colors for my family feels wrong. It makes me feel all the feels, which, if you know me, makes me very uncomfortable with any of it.

I feel a hope rising within me. While sadness and anger are a part of everyone who lives, it is time for them to go back on the shelf with the other time worn emotions of my soul. Negative emotions suck too much energy out of who I know I am. Yesterday, my usual sense of being returned. Things are getting better. I no longer have to be the kid who fixes other people’s problems. IYKYK. I am seen. I am heard. I am wanted. I am LOVED.

Brenda 2004, Mom 2007, Pops 2016, Celine 2021. My family. Tears flow for the love I no longer get to share with the ones who have gone on before me. Until we meet again. You know, I love you, right?

It Began With A Tear

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It came from a song. I have the hardest time singing “Somewhere Over the Rainbow” It is not because I don’t know the words or that I can’t carry a tune. This is a song about longing, wanting something, or someone or an event that for some reason you can not have. Or maybe you once had it and now it is gone. Or say as in my case I believe it is where I will someday see the face of my kid sister, long since passed away, waiting for me on the other side of this life. Every time I start this song, I stop myself. I feel my emotion catch in my throat. I feel small, alone, and abandoned. A friend asked me today why I never finish this song. For the first time in a long time I told someone why.

I am a broken soul. Most days with a little flair and a jingle or two most people don’t see through the cloud of smoke I lay out. Loss of a loved one is the toughest things that we as survivors have to live with. Tears spill because love cannot be kept. Sometimes all of that love that I am trying so desperately to contain breaks free from my heart and rolls down my cheek. Love

I never realized until today how often I don’t finish this song. This song reminds me of what once was but is no longer. It is a wish, a dream, a fear, a hope, a wanting. It is beautiful. It is haunting. It makes me happy on a good day and crushes me on a bad day. I have a habit of singing in public without invitation. My quirk, my passion, my link to sanity. I promise you that I can sing. I sometimes embarrass the people I am with but singing makes my soul feel alive. If I can make one other person’s life better even for just a span of a moment I feel like maybe I am seen, that what I do matters, that I have a reason to be. For a very long time after my sister died, I felt empty. Singing changes my aura and fixes my broken.

I try to go somewhere every Saturday. I must start this song every adventure and leave it mid verse. Somewhere in the presence of my own grief I forgot that this song means other things to different people. It is not my song and if I am going to start out on this journey I need to get to the end of the yellow brick road. So live like no one is watching, love with everything you have, make those memories and finish your song.

Mrs. C

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Sometimes on this journey we cry. I hate to feel like I am going to cry. Crying makes me feel vulnerable and weak and needy but sometimes on this journey we cry. On my last trip around WWs I had a coworker who went above and beyond what a casual friend does for somebody.The times we had, the fights, the tears, the laughter; ordinary at the time, precious to recall now.  It’s strange how coworkers can become like family to you. How friendship can make an unbearable job an easier ride through Hell.

I was afraid to join the local Y. I was down my first 75 pounds. I was eager to try out water aerobics but timid about actually joining a “group” activity. Mrs. C not only talked me down from my ledge of fear; she happily told me she would go with me as many nights of the week as she felt up to. I am around the same age as her children and if truth be told I felt like she was adopting me. I loved her for that. She always treated me like I belonged to her. I got scolded when I was rude, encouragement when I faltered and a shoulder to cry on when I just had to let out the emotions that come flying by when you are doing a great job as an active WW. ( yes, that is sarcasm) Through it all she believed in me.

Mrs.C passed away in July.  I am sad. I want giant gumdrops (one of her favorites), I want, I want…I want not to be sad but it is a part of life. I already miss her more than I will ever be able to convey here.  She was a great friend to me. I will carry all that she taught me until the end of my days. 

I wish I could ease the pain of your goodbye for the ones you loved. I can’t; the only way to the other side of grief is to go through it. You are loved. You are missed. I wish you peace.  Until we meet again, my friend. 

Brave?

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I love my Pops. Everyone who knows me knows how much I care about this man. People often say to me how strong I am or brave or what courage it takes to face his illness. I never know quite know how to respond to that. I know if the tables were turned and I was the one who was ill my Dad would be there. It is the character you build with the help of your parents that makes you the person you become. My parents had their faults, who doesn’t? They also tried very hard to instill certain values in us girls. Work hard, love with an open heart, be kind to people, listen, be understanding. Give of yourself not because it is expected of you but because want to share who you are with others. Nice counts.

My Dad never graduated high school. He was from an era in time when quitting school to seek a job to help your family was encouraged. I am sure my grandparents would have loved it if all of their children had stayed in school and jumped for their share of the American dream but dreams don’t put food on your table. My Dad has always had a strong sense of taking care of one’s own family. Do what needs to be done so they are provided for. He was a great provider. I can remember him having two part time jobs to help round out his full time job just to make ends meet. My mother was really unable to hold down a job for any significant amount of time. Her mental illness always got in her way. Crippling her ability to cope with every day duties of keeping the house and kids in line. Often my Dad had to be both parents.

My Dad never gave up on my mother and loved her devotedly until the day she died. Funny, he doesn’t remember her now. Sad for me; blessing for him? Who am I to say? I only know in my heart I am glad my mother did not live to see my Pops robbed of his memory. She nearly lost her mind after my sister passed away. I sometimes think that’s why her health declined so fast after Breny died ; she was broken. Both of my parents were clingy after her passing. My phone would ring off the hook. They would often call me to make sure I was Okay. Annoying then, but now I realize how hurt they were by her passing and how afraid they were for me and my other sister. Loss was not easy for either of them.

I deal with my Dad’s loss everyday. He is still here, yet he is not.  As the days go by I know my time being with him, laughing, living, crying and just being his kid are on the decline. He will not live forever despite my best efforts. I have become the parent to my parent. My parents taught me what to do. There is no bravery involved. Only love…and love can do anything. Love the people in your life while they are still here to share it. Dad/Trish