As the day gets closer, I find myself doing everything possible to keep busy. Extra work. Louder music. Even cleaning the cupboards from top to bottom. Anything. To avoid the thoughts that demand to be thought about. I meet new people. People who don’t know the history like I do, and in some sick way I find myself keeping pieces of it to myself thinking; maybe. Just maybe. If they don’t know, and I don’t tell them – it didn’t happen. Maybe. Somehow. I just made it all up, and if I don’t remember, relive, or retell – then whos going to know? I read about people who have lost someone, and have others writing them stories. Stories about their loved one. And then you have me, holding out on everything that has happened, leaving my story like swiss cheese.
Lately I have been so done with grief. So done with pain and sadness. So over it all. So ready to just move on, and quit acknowledging it all. If I don’t, then who will know?
I have always wanted to move away to a town where no one knows me, and in a way I have done just that. I have created a person no one knows, and have chosen to only show, and share certain pieces. Holding back the hard, the dark and the ugly. Refusing to admit to certain things, even going as far as trying to forget. Forget. Forget. Because if I forget, who will remember? And if no one remembers…then I am free. I am free to live as a brand new person without a dark past holding me down. And oddly enough, that life is coming into full view.
My focus is now on the kids. And finding the best for them. Getting them grown, and off to a better future. And while all that is good, and positive, and letting go and moving on is much needed…I am abandoning all that made me, who I am. I am leaving behind the love we shared, and letting go of everything. The bad with the good. All in the name of a better life. And that’s good. But eventually…it all comes crashing in around me, and I am left quickly trying to replace all the broken pieces before someone discovers who I really am behind it all.
People often peg me as a “Good person.” After all, I have three kids who arent mine and have pushed aside almost everything to give them a life. Sure. It sounds like a fairy tale. But the only thing I have pushed aside, is who I really am. In hopes of creating this person I have become: someone I don’t even recognize. Or know. Or understand.
With it, I have thrown out myself. My core. My being. I have tossed aside the pain and sadness because I am TIRED of dealing with it. But with it, I have thrown out my understanding of people. My sympathy of other beings. My knowledge of just how hard this life can be. And how fragile a human life is. I have tossed aside all that I have learned on this journey, and simply went with whats easier. Whats better for now. The superficial and simple. And while I thought that’s what I wanted, I am fast finding that I am no better off now than I was then.
I am avoiding. Denying. Ignoring. I am fast becoming confused because I don’t understand why something is hard, and instead of trying to understand it – I throw it aside because its too complicated, too dense, and me? Im light and carefree and happy. Im taking the good, without the bad. Im eating the sugar, and not the meat. And eventually, I am going to crash. I am going to come off my sugar laden high and crash hard.
Two weeks from today, will be five years since Molly has been gone. To say that simple statement makes me sick. It makes me want to run. It doesn’t make me realize how far I have come in five years, and it doesn’t make me want to remember her. It screams with all the pain and hardness of her death, and makes me want to get as far away as possible, and forget. Forget. FORGET. Forget her death, even if it matters forgetting her life. Forgetting her. Forgetting everything she taught me. Because if I forget….
Maybe. It didn’t happen. Maybe I can move on. Maybe. Just maybe. I can live this life. Maybe I can do this. Maybe I can continue on being a happy go lucky kind of person that everyone likes. But it isn’t real. The plastic cover is quickly melting, and I can no longer continue to rebuild it. I am who I am, like it or not. I just need to remember that. I need to remember that its ok to be me. Its ok to think about things, and over think things, and rethink things. Its alright! Its gotten me this far, its helped me this long. Not everyone will understand, and that’s ok.
But I cant keep pushing aside what I know to be true. I cant keep trying to convince myself it didn’t happen. Because it did. It doesn’t matter what I don’t want to believe. Its true. Even if I don’t like it. And it is, what it is. And its time to gently move along, reminding myself all the way – that not everyone will remember them. But its ok if I do.
Someone has to. And that someone might as well be me. But I wouldn’t mind if you wanted to remember with me…
…what was. And what is.