…I miss the air I miss my friends I miss my mother I miss it when life was a party to be thrown but that was a million years ago.
I can’t be the only one who shoves in a cd or i-pods up and sing-sobs every time I’m alone in the car. Can I?
This week, my symphonious flagellation of choice is Adele’s cd – 25. I can sing-sob through every stinking song, but A Million Years Ago sticks a knife right through me. For all the blessings in my life, and there are plenty, I’m here, writing this, because I can’t shake the fear and grief and sense of loss that has turned everything gray. It’s so selfish and whiny and weak that some days I’m not even speaking to myself over it. So I drive and sing-sob.
I miss the air – that sensory sweet spot of space and possibility.
I miss my friends – especially those who knew my daughter before, those who are so far away either in time or in distance. Fact, I miss her friends, and her boyfriend – who has hung in through hell, high water, and beyond endurance, and who probably feels this ache more deeply than anyone but me.
I miss my mother. June 5 would have been my mother’s 88th birthday. We buried her ten years ago on June 5th, because she died in February when the ground was solid ice.
I dreamed of Mom last week. I often do, but she has never appeared to me in a dream as she did last week – she was exactly as the final time I saw her face – in the ER, disoriented, debilitated, wide-eyed with confusion and terror, unable to speak. It was just as gut-wrenching ten years later in my dream. Worse, she was crying silent tears, and I couldn’t get her to tell me what was wrong. When I woke up, I knew what was wrong…what is wrong. One of her daughters (my sister), and two of her granddaughters are in extreme and deadly crisis. This dream utterly deep-sixed the small comfort I’ve drawn from thinking “thank goodness, my Mother never had to know any of this”. Who was I kidding – Mom knows, oh sweet Lord, she knows.
I miss it when life was a party to be thrown… Raising the kids was the most incredible, happiest time of my life…every day was intoxicating in its possibility. For all the seasons of life and glorious transitions that I, her father, her step father and step mother, my sons, daughter-in-law, granddaughter, niece, twin nephews, family, her Greek sisters and friends, and her long-devoted boyfriend have experienced, my girl, our girl, has been frozen since her late teens in the see-saw cycle of addiction. I’ve only had brief glimpses, but I swear on my life, there is, within her, the bright, effervescent young adult woman, daughter, sister, aunt, girlfriend with a strong, confident, compassionate, outgoing joie de vivre fighting to be free, to live, to overcome this ruthless life-sucking soul-stealing relentless bastard disease.
I miss her most of all.