You know what I find slightly weird? Is that when I first started writing here, I wrote, for those first few weeks, about Molly…to Molly…in a sense that she was still here with us, because she was. And now, three years and a day later, I don’t even dare to mention her name, because it feels so taboo in my mind. As if saying it will somehow rock her grave, or ruin the world, or forbid, make someone dreadfully uncomfortable.
Its hard to talk about her, because in a way, I think that I am only torturing myself by reliving those moments. Not just her final moments, but the moments she was alive. People who knew her, rarely speak about her, and I have no doubt its because every time they do, I get silent. An awkward sense of silence. I steer clear of her name, because it seems to make other people uncomfortable, its just difficult to explain. Especially to people who don’t know the story, who havent lived through the story with me, who don’t really know all the details that lead up to the events that took place…
Its awkward to explain that no, she wasn’t my daughter. Yes I had a daughter, no she isn’t alive. Its difficult to explain that I was in the middle of loosing the kids to the state, and she was in limbo, that because I was still a guardian, I had to make medical decisions even though she was still in the custody of the state. Its hard to explain without saying too much, while giving enough details, that she was my niece. That no her dad was my brother, and no he isn’t living either. Because that awkward silence takes over.
Because its hard to talk about it with out mentioning so much of it, and so much of it is a blur and painful haze that its just easier to leave it unsaid.
Its not that I want to “Keep her memory alive” although at one time that was my mission.
Its not that I even want to talk about her, because in a way, I am ok with everything.
Its just difficult to know HOW to react to peoples reactions. Its difficult to answer all the questions, because some of the things I don’t even know…some of the things I prefer NOT to remember, and some of the things just have lost their value over the years.
Its not that I don’t miss her, although that seems awkward to say. Its that I don’t exactly, know how to miss her. Because she wasn’t my daughter. She wasn’t in my custody. She wasn’t mine. Our lives have taken so many spins and twist since shes been gone, that its hard really, to remember life then…and it seems so much longer than three years. It seems to say that I didn’t care, that I don’t care.
That because on her third year of being gone, I cant even punch out a few words to acknowledge her existence. Or lack thereof.
Words just don’t seem to cut it when it comes to her. Because she was more than words, words seem to put a limit on how much you can say…and Molly, was beyond any limit in anything she ever did. Everything she did was done to its fullest, with a hot burning passionate desire, although it wasn’t always in a good way.
I remember her, I really do. I just cant put her down here, I cant put her out in words, I cant accurately say how much I miss her, or who she was. It just wouldn’t be fair to limit her to words. Because she is beyond words.