Please come now
I think I’m falling
Holding on to all I think is safe…" – Creed, One Last Breath
I am teetering on the edge. I am not sure what is over the edge, or beyond the horizon but I am dancing with the idea of going that way. Maybe six feet aint so far down.
Stop the blog.
Don’t stop the blog.
I have triggers galore this week. This week of all weeks. The week I was beginning in earnest to pull back from my daughter and pretend once again she is not there or it is okay for her to be wherever she is and not with me. The week I tell myself regularly its okay. Its all just fabulous. Let it go. Don’t think about it. Move on. Appreciate what you have and ignore what you dont. Love the ones who love you and forget those that don’t. Rethink. Reframe. Revise. Get out of your head and heart and into your life. Go. Now.
I am trying.
My niece, the graduate, named the same as my daughter was by her adoptive parents, has been with me all week. She has been watching my small men as they don’t start camp until next week. Its been mighty awkward to have the boys constantly say:
"Where is M?"
"Is M eating with us?"
"Is M sleeping over tonight?"
"We had so much fun with M today."
Something inside me goes haywire each time the boys speak of their cousin who bears that same name as their sister. Something short circuits. My belly flips over. My head darts around looking to see which M they refer to. For a few seconds I am somewhere else while my short circuiting brain adjusts to the reality.
I want to scream irrationally each time they call for their cousin M. I want to suggest they call her Peaches, or Kiki, or BoogaBooga just so I don’t have to experience this crazy psychotic mind switching.
M? Which M? Daughter M? Niece M?
Is M (daughter) here? Oh, no, its niece.
I stand in the kitchen and peer through the butlers pantry and watch my small men play with their eighteen year old cousin named the same as their sister, graduating the same year as their sister. They toss pillows and wrestle. My youngest screeches and body slams his cousin. She giggles and grabs him between the legs and lifts his lean and limber six year old body up over shoulder. He continues to giggle.
"Stop M! Stop!" he screams with a mixture of terror and delight.
My throat constricts and I retreat to the bathroom.
The visions that aren’t visions, more like fantasies or flashbacks of things that never were but should have been pummel my psyche.
I have to escape before they see my tears.
Imagine if the M they are wrestling with was indeed their sister?
It is almost too much to bear.