Sunday, October 5, 2008

I seem to be caught in something. quicksand comes to mind.


except I keep thinking I'm making progress, pulling myself out of it and then it surprises me all over again and I'm sobbing, like there's an endless and inescapable well of whatever it is that I feel as if I'm wading through, swimming in, drowning in. but then the next day I get up and it's better, or it's not, and the day stretches ahead like something I won't ever be able to see the end of, and no, it's not that I want the end to come. I'm not at that point of despair.

yes it's the month of my mother's birthday, the month she should be turning 71. and she should be calling me, asking me how the girls are doing, celebrating with me because I have pieces of what I suppose is some kind of art tied to a wall in portland, and another piece to be hung next month, and there's no joy there, no feeling of any sort of pride or accomplishment. what does it matter, if I can't call her and tell her? and I know it's been six years. and I should be over this, I'm lacking in some kind of moral fortitude apparently.

whatever it is that's broken in me it always seems to come up around her, my mother, my mother. ecstasies of grieving, and then sandwiches to make, and tears to hold back until my head aches, and sharp unloving words to anyone who moves towards me to help.

2 comments:

Pauline said...

one never gets over losing one's mother so quit trying. if she loved you and you loved her you are lucky, and because of that love you can still talk to her, you can look for her in every beautiful thing you see, you can tell her about your life and then wait for her answer...

shara said...

it's better today. october's expecially difficult, I have three hard anniversaries one after the other in the middle of the month. and obviously I'm prone to brooding; this doesn't help much. but the more I let it out the less it holds me down, and I think the trouble lately has been my habit of keeping so much inside, trying to control it and force it into some small and unnoticed space, until my head seems ready to burst with it, and everything seems hopeless.