My body was racked with sobs so great I had dry heaves. My eyes red-rimmed and swollen, bloodshot, physically unable to produce any more tears. Complete and utter devastation of my world. My sister, my mentor, my travel companion, and my friend…just gone.
Mind numbing sadness and emptiness. Decisions to be made. My nephew, your only child and three years my junior, will make decisions for you. We talk about you and your life; all your accomplishments; and there were many. I am stunned as we sit in the car talking when he tells me he didn't know we were even related until he was in his teens. He though I was, “Just one of those kids mom always helped.” He doesn't remember my memories. The annual county fairs, the lemonade stands, a trip to Disneyland, losing his baby teeth to a rogue tee shirt in the Bahamas. Memories that only I remember.
Months go by. I am eating myself into oblivion from depression and grief. My husband consoles me with endless love and support while my life makes feeble attempts at silent normalcy. Then, again, my world is shattered. I have discovered the truth. YOUR truth…lies, really. Had I known my life was such a devastation to you I would have made my way in the world without you. If I would have only known the way you really felt about the way life's cards were dealt…it wasn't my fault. I didn't ask to be here. Our dad and my mom gave my life.
I know now that you felt my mom was “beneath” you. Like you always said to me, “Without a degree you are nothing but day labor.” To you my mom was nothing more than a worthless, day laborer that took care of your child so that you could attend college to attain all of your degrees. No one did that for her, so mom's degrees came from the University of Life…apparently not good enough for you. I get it now- I was on your turf and you didn't like it. Our dad loved your first, best, and longest. I understood that from toddler-hood.
Finding your life-long journals with every single item you ever purchased for, or gave to me listed with a banker's precision. Your cutting comments about my life, my husband, our child, our world. Rubber-band bound glimpses of the life of an empty you. Every letter I had ever written to you, many with grammar and spelling corrections in red off to the side. Letters to you from our dad forty-some-odd years old, yellowed newspaper clippings announcing your many birthday parties, or recent accomplishments. Valentine cards from long-gone classmates, and Dentyne gum wrapper chains of yesteryear.
With truth comes freedom. Once I learned YOUR truth, I was freed from the grief and pain of loss. I am no longer sad you died. I am sad how you lived. I am sad to know the bitterness you held and the vile acidity of your soul. Maybe now you can have peace, under the grass.
