The weird thing about my stories is that they have a reoccurring theme, I suppose most people’s do. Mine I think maybe grinding to a fine point so sharp that you almost can’t even feel the pain. It is so close to unbearable. I wonder if it’s my therapy of sorts, I suppose writing is for most people.
I have started similar entries in the same way, reviewing my list of loss, be it people, relationships, pride, happiness, love, a sense of myself, friendships, self-reflection. Heartbreaking. Other losses have included the weight of the world on my shoulders, people who haven’t loved the real me, responsibility, hurt, disappointment, selfish people, hurtful people, being under appreciated and minimized. Heart mending. So I guess it balances out, I suppose it always does. In my effortless quest to gain balance by controlling nothing I again find myself hurdled over an arch that for a short time I doubted I would clear. On December 2 , 2013 the day before my deceased brothers birthday, my mother passed away. December seems to be a fuck of a month for me, well my family and as you know they always seem to find themselves into my life. December 2009 6 months after my dad passed away I was the last vote to remove my brother from life support and finally let him drift away. My brother’s birthday is at the beginning of the month my mother’s birthday is in the middle of the month and now like 12th month bookends my mother and brother’s death sandwich these 31 days. In the typical lay out of my tragic events I tend balance the heartbreak and heart mend because of course with an enormous loss I also grow and cultivate a new relationship. Enter M. He first contacted me on October 19 on OKCUPID late I was tired and wet, cold after the last Fire game of the season when a message came through that although short and simple made me laugh and smile. I read the profile and knew within the first paragraph I would return the email despite never responding to people who lived far away. The head turner ? his statement that he didn’t shy away from difficult conversations.
I played my favorite game of a version of twenty questions. He was game and he was good at it, very good as good as I am. He was funny, and random, quirky, insightful, romantic, original, old school with and open mind, a quick wit and engaging. We spoke till almost 2 in the morning before saying goodnight. A day later he wrote me again and the conversation led to us exchanging numbers and the next night texting which eventually led to a first phone call.
Right now at this very second, I realize, I don’t even remember our first conversation. That’s so weird but when I ask myself why, I realize this, I realize I never had a “first conversation” with this guy. We have always spoke as if we have known each other, no awkward silences, no weird uncomfortable pauses, exchanges or realizations, never wishing I could hurry and get off the phone. I can’t remember our first conversation because we never had one, from the beginning it was Kismet.
Everyone once in a while you meet someone and you instantly connect like literally lock into each other like to pieces that snap together and, well, it feels easy. I wonder how this ends up being my karmic path but it is and here I am. To say I wasn’t close to my mother is an understatement but there was still a pang of tightness to my chest, a great sense of loss and true sadness. I’m sad we weren’t close and were not able to mend our relationship but I feel like I had already partly lost her and mourned that loss on and off for many years. The role of mother that was never quite fulfilled by her but yet she still carried that title that position in my life. The truth is I will only ever have one mother and she is completely gone now no longer a name or word or person I was reluctantly tethered to through my adulthood. With that said I was forced to look around at my siblings, my sisters who all in some fashion and who all at different points in my life and theirs were mothers to me. Very different, very unique, teaching me things and in their own ways offering me support. At times being the only true mother I had emotionally. I had hoped this would draw us together but as is typical in my family it is pulling us apart, hurtful things brewing, selfishness, greed and mistrust. My two oldest sisters cleaning out my mother’s house without myself and my other sister was probably the last dividing factor between us.
So here I am, during the 12th month sandwiched between the inter relation of heart ache and heart mend, which I suppose many people experience during this time of year for a variety of reasons, I wonder if their reasons repeat as mine have or is there yet a lesson I haven’t grasped or allowed myself to be submerged in.