Sometimes grief presses down on me. It presses so hard I feel like a piece of paper. Thin and tearable. It’s during these moments that think about you. Imagine a life curled up along your stomach breathing each breath along with you. It helps me sleep.
It’s funny. I get loneliest when I try to be okay with being alone. The times I’m not lonely tend to be whenever I just let myself miss someone who hasn’t shown up yet. When I tell myself little stories about what kind of love would be best. Imagining you are real holds my sadness at bay.
I never pretended I wasn’t broken. I have broken so many times, I learned to put myself back together in self defense. Now I know where each piece goes, and being broken doesn’t bother me anymore. What bothers me is everyone telling me I shouldn’t be broken.
Tv commercials, television, even my own family members. They think being sad is something to get over. That loneliness is something to be feared. Most of them drown it out with loud music, or games on Facebook. Me, I just think about things like trees, rocks and time. I stare at stars and imagine them staring back. I don’t mind grief, it has its own reasons for being.
I miss things that matter. Moments, connections, memories. Parts of me that are defined by things, or people, that went away. Who am I when those things leave? Am I still me?
I haven’t met you..but I like you. My idea of you is that you work really hard, maybe too hard, trying to prove yourself worthy of something nobody’s expected you to work so hard at. You are stubborn and you think too much. You really don’t know how to relax. It’s always a new project for you.
You also feel things deeply but damn you don’t trust easily. You have the only locked door that has another locked door behind it.
I wonder if I have defined you to the point you cannot be real.
I am not unhappy. Grief isn’t about unhappiness..it’s about longing for things you can’t have. I like myself and I don’t mind being lonely. The grief is just there…it does nobody any good denying it exists.
I grieve for my daughter. I miss her in my life. I am acutely aware at every moment, that I am missing years of her growing. Things like yelling at her to go to bed, to wake up, to do her homework. Preparing her dinner and making her cookies. I don’t get those moments. I want them, but you have to deal with what you get..not what you want to have. She’s a great person. I like her. She has a heart that swallows world’s whole. Her determination to be someone she cannot define, but is driven to becoming. She is someone that will become something..simply because she wants it so badly.
I miss my dad, my step-mom, and more people who passed away. People I barely had time to understand properly before they passed. They died before I knew I needed more time with them. I hadn’t understood the questions I needed to ask but didn’t, until they echoed in my waking moments wishing they could answer now that I thought of them.
I miss people who discarded me. Who through their own changing moved away from me. Who didn’t mean to hurt me, but managed it anyway. Those ones are the ones I work hardest to heal from. To forgive. Because I understand..I do. Even if the scars still hurt just the same.
I miss you. I haven’t met you yet but I miss your heart wrapped up snugly against mine. I want your laughter to shiver up my spine and make me say thank you to the cosmos for the millionth time. I want to argue with you over stupid things. Stupid things that mean I’m alive and properly crotchety. Things that I look forward to being annoyed by.
Sometimes I wonder why I think so hard about what you will be like..I think I know now. It’s so I don’t miss you when you finally show up. It’s so I’ll know immediately when you have finally arrived.
Is it ok that I like you?