I’ve been reminded Mom recently of that time between. In that 2 years between when my marriage ended, and your death. There was no lead in…we had no idea. Then one day you were changed…and two weeks later we learn you’re dying of a Cancer. Some fragment that had worked its way through your body, and had rested in your brain. Like…whoa nelly…but there was no stopping death. And then you lost your voice, and then we lost you. It took all of six weeks…poof…no more Mom. It was tough.
I dreamed of you, often for so many years. Dreamed of you casually in our lives, and it took me a while to accept it. I kept saying to you “your dead“…and you’d give me this look like I was missing something. And I was. You were saying to me with those eyes…”yeah, and?”.
So when I was thrust back this week into that in between time before you died, well, I realized I forgot a lot of stuff. I decided today that the reason I forgot that in between is I have so much to wade through to get to it. And there is quite a bit on the OTHER side of it that I find painful, sometimes.
It dawned on me recently how long ago that was. FIFTEEN years next year. I am not that person I was. I feel more scattered and free now then ever, but that time was the first time I felt this way…and I cherish it… even though I now see I have forgotten quite abit. I was a bit messed up…but I was still ok.
However, I’ve lost whole people and events, thoughts, feelings that have been set aside at some point.
So what exactly brought this all on you may ask? See, let me backtrack a bit, about a month a go this guy grabs my coat as I was getting off the bus after work, I turned and this guy says “Carla? Darla?“… I’m like “No…Paula”…and turned and got off the bus…it was my stop.
Wondered the next couple days after who on earth he was. All I could think of was that he was somehow related to work…but no idea where. Figured eventually must be someone from one of the classes at work maybe this last year…ya know, one of the ones who quit.
Now, this last Wednesday I get on the bus around 11am, working alittle later than normal, and as I’m going to sit down, and I hear someone say “hey, Paula“. And there is this guy across from me, lounging there with this goofy grin. I have NO idea at first who in the hell he is. But then we get talking…and HOLY shit he was my manager at one of the contracts at this old call centre I worked at…back in those GAP years.
You know…it was not until I was already off the bus that I connected the dots. HE was the guy who called me blawdy DARLA that day getting off the bus after work last month.
WOW. Totally drew a blank. It was awesome sitting there for those first 5 minutes though trying to put together all the pieces of who this dude was. But you know, still can’t for the life of me remember his name.
Really had me off lost in thought this week though. Well, that and the f’en 12 hour days I’ve been doing this last couple weeks. Forty-four hours this week and last. I mean, I can’t complain, money’s money…BUT…I’m not a happy camper. Oh well, I’ll live. Sure of that.
I still think of that time between as my Holly go lightly days though…as I channeled Audrey Hepburn for support of my broken heart. I felt set adrift, and anchorless. I wasn’t sure about anything, or anyone, and I sure wasn’t making any promises to anyone, or allowing anyone past the gates again…one could say I was hurt.
I rarely acknowledge the pain though at that loss of my marriage. Like some precious thing you found, and somehow managed to lose. And yes, one finds oneself feeling sometimes still all to blame…even if one knows that is not so. I am not particularly fond of self-mutilation, pain I find distasteful, so I can not flay myself for long – I have learned to accept myself, flaws and all.