For obviously silent reasons, a lot of life has been happening ’round these parts, and I have neglected to write for having gone into a type of survival mode which makes me want to eat, sleep, and deny. I also know that some people “may” call this depression, but it’s not, so don’t.
I know better.
This is just me, trying to eat everything in sight because food is tasty, sleep for extended periods as I have a dream-like bed, and pretend I’m in a bubble of beauty and joy, which is totally normal and not weird at all.
But where I think I can pinpoint the beginning of time and everything else that may have turned difficult was when my husband and I were dumped by his parents shortly after Christmas.
And by dumped, I actually mean, “you’re both dead to us, so stop being alive”.
And as to HOW we got this stage of our relationship, this is still mostly a mystery to me, adding insult to injury that the reasons we were told are SO PETTY, RIDICULOUS, SENSITIVE SALLY, AND OUT OF LEFT FIELD, you almost can’t believe it. We’re about three months deep into this terrible situation, and I STILL can’t figure out which end is up or which way the sun shines. Apparently not out of our asses, anymore, but maybe it never really did.
My only experiences with parents are the ones I grew up with…my own.
You see, I think I have great parents. Like the REALLY great kind that love you forever, like you for always, and do things for you whenever you need them (or not need them) to. Both of my parents are the reason I want to be a parent, because I think I have great juju to pass down. But my person didn’t grow up in quite the same environment. And therefore, my ability to understand his early years or even understand where he stands with his family now is so difficult.
In fact, it’s like his parents died on us. And as much as I desperately hate referring to it like that because I have actually had a parent die, that’s the only way I know how to describe it.
Except for the harsh emails we keep getting from them, but I digress.
What happened to really pushed my emotions into overdrive was when my BFF’s dad passed away in February. There’s nothing that brings on the inner feelings of losing your parents more than being with someone when the imaginary becomes actuality. And through his experience, it made me feel like a different perspective shifted its way into my viewpoint. Whereas many times a death comes as a surprise, in this case, my dear friend was alerted early that his Father wasn’t expected to live a great deal longer, and he was able to fly home, spend a week with his Father, and be actually holding his hand when he passed over into his next experience.
For that experience in his life, I was grateful for him.
The thing about death is that we don’t expect it, but why wouldn’t we? Like birth, it’s a true, real part of being alive. And when it meets us HARD in the face, we act like, “how did this happen? why wasn’t I aware? why now?”(Please don’t think I’m trying to touch on sudden death here, because being a weak hearted soul, I can’t talk about that too well, so let’s stick to elderly passing, if we may…). The fact that my friend got to share in a truly exceptional experience of being with his Father upon the moment of his death is something quite rare and precious.
And it made me think of my own last parent, my person, my Mother.
I don’t want to be caught out by her passing when it (never, ever) happens. I don’t want to feel like things weren’t said, stories weren’t shared, mementos not passed, and moments missed in both of our lives. So I have to prepare myself for what will eventually come down the line.
I want to have the hard talks now.
I want to hear the stories told that I need to pass to my children and they to theirs.
I need to present in my house the artifacts of lives well lived, and travels well traveled, so that when I look over them, I also remember our smuggling out the huge vase from Italy, the tiny car ride in Spain, the dishes carried through the U.K.
And it all circles back to how sad (deeply, deeply saddened) that the situation with my person’s parents makes me feel. If they want us to be “dead” to them, then we don’t get the chance to introduce our children to them, let them share their stories, bring over their life mementos, say our sweet nothings and our most heartfelt goodbyes. We get cheated out of these parts of living like we never deserved them or wanted them. All for some “misunderstandings”.
But if this situation makes me me aware of anything, it’s to appreciate this moment NOW. Any moment. All moments. Because whether it’s a decided split or a natural one, death is death and we can’t go back on that deal. We must love each other, be kind, share, give and receive love, and appreciate. Today. I hope beyond hope that 2014 won’t be the year we “bury” two of our parents, and waiting to see what will happen, I will send meta and love to all those who raised me with the hope they know that I give thanks and my love.