See also www.http://www.annelinorrland.blogspot.com for more background on this author, old blogs

Tuesday, March 23, 2010

Stunned

Loss does nothing so much as it stuns us. Disbelief. Paralysis. Betrayal empties us of more than trust. We are left grieving, knowing more loss than our minds can comprehend. The maw. Chasms opening into yawning caverns that ache like a cavity, strained, distended beyond natural time. We don't feel this all the time. thank god. We can move through many days with only a vague awareness of pain or, better yet, a bare remembrance, or none at all, caught up in what is now. But then. Then we explode into paroxysms of staggering sadness. And we do remember all that was gone, all that is beyond retrieval. Moments lost, relationships strained, time missed, all that was taken. Stolen. All that screwed us over. Today I remember. Today I feel my soul drained and spilled out. You lose your senses in the middle of this grief, you forget to take perspective. What good has come, quite frankly, what good has been won, dammit, with determination, courage, grace, and luck. All of the stupidity. All of nastiness. I'm remembering it today. I am remembering them today. I am remembering the acts of cowardice, duplicity, manipulation. I am remembering names. Faces. Specifics. I am remembering words, lies, looks. I remember the woman who was unspeakably mean and manipulative to my child, confusing her, seeking to drive a wedge between us. I am remembering the invasions of my office, my email, my voice mail. I am remembering the violations of the altar, the stolen bread, the missing wine. I am remembering the distinguished man who stood in front of the mob and washed his hands, "what you will do, you will do." But worse, far worse, I am remembering how much I forgot, how much I missed. The 20 hour days at work, the seventy hour weeks. The bedtimes stories not read, the silly little outings for ice cream not taken, the stories at the dinner table I wasn't there to hear. I could go on and on and on and on. and it would be deadly to do so. The man with gray hair, and the one with a clownish manner, and the earnest face that dared not know the truth. I remember today. What was taken. What I gave up willingly, all on my own. Thinking it was for the best. Waste. Today it feels like waste. No, not today: this moment, this moment, right now, it feels like waste. I am so angry I wasted my time, three precious years of my life being set up sabotaged, cut apart, and finally, cut down. I am so angry. And inexpressibly sad. But that's today, this moment. But. There was yesterday. And there is tomorrow. In fact, there is fifteen minutes from now. We are going out, this child and I, the one I missed. And we have these wonderful moments, days, even. Days built by grit and determination and courage. To rise, reclaim. Rebuild. We are together. We were not pulled apart. Sorry, 'miss you know who you are'. We survived. All through it, through every moment. And she gets you, she's got your number too. We all do. Petty. Mean. You all screwed with us as best you could. And there are days when the cavity aches as much as it did once. When the cavern of loss extends out beyond light into deep darkness. And I cry. Rant. Moan, suffer. But, beyond remembering all that was the good that also came to us -- eventually -- and all that was good that God in Her grace did through those awful times, in the lives of others who were open to Her, and who, mostly, moved on, beyond remembering that, the fuck you days and memories we have made a new life as god does. At least that's what the story tells us. My girl needs some new duds. And, fuck you, men in velvet robes with vacuous titles, I am going shopping.