Thursday, January 19, 2012
i wanted to hold your hand again. last night, after 2 long days at work, neither of which provided a single moment to reflect on the last 6 years without you, i let my guard down and melted into a heap of tears as i opened my car door and bent to greet you in the driveway with a quick kiss as i heard you say "Hi Kricky" with your smile and your squeeze. i could see the garage door open, as it always was, and allowed myself to come into our home again. i walked through that door, into the familiar warmth and light of our old house, your home, the place i could always return to... i sat on the couch with you and i listened to you speak and i heard you in the kitchen, perhaps loading the dishwasher or pouring a 7-up into your always handy plastic cup(s). then i followed you back outside, away from this place that exists only in my memory. the meeting was brief but it was enough to bring me to the knees of my grief. it is not a place i go often.
some tell me it is God's will you left this earth 6 years ago, January 17th, 2006, just after midnight on that day. do you know that your granddaughter was born on this day in China? i am not convinced it was your time to leave us. not all things are God's will. people make mistakes and we live with the regret of them. i have mine. hopefully, wherever you are now, you have grown from your own, passed into that next life into the infinite light of new wisdom. some part of me can't resolve how you are not here, not a part of my daughter's life, that you never saw me become a mother, fulfill that dream of parenting a child. this particular amazing child. some futures have a way of falling down in midflight and something tells me you weren't done flying.
i get these glimpses of you with her. i allow myself the imaginary luxury of your laughter, cascading like a soft spring rain into her life. you are down on all fours with her; you are teaching her to color inside the lines or maybe celebrating that she's so good at staying outside of them (!); you are playing with her, building blocks and mansions and dreams with her. you were so good at being "Tata". my heart breaks into this constellation of pain wishing she could know you. it isn't enough that i'm too much like you. (damn it).
i love you mom. and i hate that you are gone.
*(line from the poem "After a While" by Veronica Shoffstall)
Posted by kitchu at 9:53 AM