9/12/2011

I'm Sorry and Golden Light

So many lovely people have reached out to me in the last weeks.  So many don't know what to say, what to do.  Most have absolutely no idea what my family and I are going through.  This is good.  I do not want you to know what I am going through.  I don't want you to understand what this is like.

But there are some, a few...  A small band of brothers and sisters that are bound by the unthinkable tragedy of loosing someone they love to suicide.  They have been a comfort to me, and I have such mixed emotions about that.  I'm grateful that I don't have to say anything, you been where I am standing.  But I hate that you have stood here, have carried this broken heart in your chest.  I'm so sorry that you know how I feel.  I'm so sorry that we have this in common.

I'm sorry for the hollow where your heart used to be.

I'm sorry for the hollow in your life where your loved one used to be.

I'm sorry that your imagination won't let you rest.  For the images that creep before your eyes...  Even though you weren't there on that horrible morning, you feel like you were.

I'm sorry for the frenzy that is a tight knot somewhere between your stomach and your chest.  The rage that is right there behind your tongue.  The rage.  The storm below the surface of your skin.  The sensation of your flesh straining to contain it.  The urge to not contain it.  The unspoken wish for someone to say the wrong thing, so that you have someone to lash out at.  Or for some nameless bad guy to foolishly cross your path.  So you can beat him bloody.

I'm sorry for the way it feels to desperately dig your fingernails into everything within reach.  To manically scrabble to hold onto your children, your husband.  Because you cannot, cannot, cannot.  Loose them.  And you are terrified that someday you might have blank space where they should be too.

I'm sorry that you weren't very nice to that sweet woman at church yesterday.  Because she had the audacity to ask you how your mother was doing.

I'm sorry for the times when you are almost asleep, when the questions come.  The questions.  No answers.  Only questions.  Was he afraid at the end?  Did he change his mind when it was too late?  What did he see?  Did he hurt?

I'm sorry for the things that hurt so much that you won't let them come.  The things that you firmly keep both feet on, stamping on them when they try and wiggle around your shoes.  Did he know?  Did he know how much I loved him?  Did I love him enough?  If I loved him more, would have mattered?  That time when he was 13...  And his jazz band was playing at the Jazz Festival, and I overslept and forgot to go.  Would it have mattered if I was there?  Was there some other pivotal point, some unnamed day in the past 26 years that I dropped the ball?

I'm so sorry you know what this feels like.

But we'll be okay, right?  It won't always hurt this much, right?

Right?

Good news.  I saw something today.  I was driving Lucas to school this morning.  (I'm not sure if you picked up on this, but I'm having a little bit of a hard morning.)  I was trying to keep the sound of suppressed tears from my voice as I was talking to the boys.  The road between our house and the elementary school has trees growing on each side, and the branches arch around the road like a green, leafy tunnel.  I've always loved that road, always thought it was so beautiful.  But this morning, there is a lot of haze in the air, something somewhere is burning.  There is a fire somewhere.  The haze in the air worked magic.  The light was coming through the trees in golden, sparkling bars.  Shafts of yellow hazy warmth, turned the dew on the grass into a sparkling sea, and the leaves above into a great, green cathedral window.  The ethereal beauty on the sides of the road took my breath away.  The glittery gold light warmed me inside, just a little.  Simultaneously warmed my cold grief and soothed my fiery rage.  Just enough.

There is still beauty in the world.

There is still beauty in this life.

And when we are better, when we can get through a few more days, and we are healed a little more...

It will be waiting for us.

2 comments:

Autumn Brown said...

My sweet sweet Mariah. I'm sorry you have to go through this...we have to go through this. Myself, I don't know what to say...or what's ok to feel. I'm not going to say that things will get better...for some reason to me that just sounds tacky...as if we'll just "get over it" and forget that it ever happened. That will never happen. However, the pain will be less as time goes on...it will still be there just not as deep. You continue to write...in your own time, in your own way. It helps you and it helps others. I love you sweet pea and remember there are plenty of hugs and kisses awaiting the Evans' when you get here!

Chera said...

I never would have believed it if someone had told me back then, but it will get easier. Life will be good again. The questions will cease, the horror of that day will fade and there will be peace. One day the good memories will flood your soul, and the bad ones will fade into the background. It will take time, but I promise it will happen.

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