—-My life hangs upon me, and becomes a burden; I am ten times undone, while hope, fear, and grief and rage, and love rise up at once, and with variety of pain, distract me—Joseph Addison
DAY 1: What happens in-between my mourning and lamenting are the distractions and diversions that urge me forward.
Illustration: Baked brownies the other night for a brief intermission from my unhappiness.
The scent of vanilla & chocolate intermingled through the house.
The only problem was I forgot to add the oil and eggs—- but I didn’t dare tell anybody.
They already think I’m nuts.
My son, Andrew, comes home and says, “What happened to these brownies? They’re like freaking rocks.”
He ate it anyhow. He likes chocolate rocks. He loves his mother.
I forget things.
Especially how to be alive. ( Oh, and obviously how to bake brownies)
DAY 2: Mornings, I despise you.
Waking up to the same truth day after day. The reality of your sister; the one linked to your veins, blood, heart, and childhood is gone forever.
MURDERED. Was KILLED KILLED KILLED killed by somebody that sat at our dinner table for 30 long years
A flower left out.
I can’t seem to get past that….find my way out, find my way into some sort of familiar light. A light I once knew well.
How can it be dark when it’s light? How can it be cold when it’s warm?
MIKE KILLED KAY.
I remember calling my girlfriend telling her that two day after it happened.
“MIKE KILLED KAY,” I said quietly. “Mike Killed Kay.”
After seven months, I still can’t believe it, grasp it, accept it.
I’ll never accept it.
DAY 3: Days consist of distractions, pauses, & periods of some relief.
I live in two separate universes.
One is dead. The other has a pulse trying to break free.
One is below water. The other is trying to reach the surface.
I’m not sure how to assimilate these two worlds together….not sure how to breathe normally without Kay by my side comforting me.
Not sure how to get my heart pumping again.
DAY 4: I pray the same prayer every night. The only one I remember. The only one I’ve memorized. The only one I’m able to say.
The Lord is my shepherd; I shall not want. ( But I DO Want. I DO want.)
He maketh me to lie down in green pastures: (I am lying down, but the pasture is not green)
He leadeth me beside the still waters. (The distractions must be the still waters, right?)
DAY 5: I love my husband. Love, love, love him.
He listens to me cry and scream and talk about Kay all day long. He listens to me scream and utter a new vocabulary that now includes: FUCK. Fuck. Fuck.
I used to be a nice Christian girl. But somehow the word fuck seems to be quite apt.
He holds me when I’m sobbing with snot is running down my face and mascara is streaming down my cheeks.
I am ugly when I do that. Sometimes I smell because I forget to put on deodorant. I feel so much less, so much less….
And he still loves me, loves me, loves me.
DAY 6: Watched Julie & Julia.
This was a delightful distraction. This was the Still Waters.
Julie writes to find herself; writes to find purpose; writes to carry on…. I do too.
She discovers Julia Child. She discovers coq au vin and boeuf bourguignon and bruschetta w/ ricotta. She discovers a culinary revelation.
Two strait ours of Still Waters. Two strait hours of not crying over the love of my life.
DAY 7: I drive to the cemetery after work.
Snow falls softly on Kay’s headstone. White on sapphire granite. A sallow blanket across the earth.
I hang another cross in her tree. I hang the rest of my heart in her tree. I hang part of my childhood in her tree.
I sit next to her as “I Can Only Imagine ” plays loudly from my open car door. I sit staring at her face.
I watch the white fall, fall, fall from the sky like wet kisses.
I don’t like how the snow covers my sister’s gravestone, how it shrouds her face, her lips, the pearls around her neck.
I keep wiping the flakes off with my mittens, but it does no good. It just keeps covering her up.
I am alone in the graveyard, except for hundreds of stones and a few deer eating from the branches.
I am so alone sometimes that it hurts, hurts, hurts.