Mewsings from Lowecat (aka Indianacat)

My rants, ravings, and overall 'mewsings' on life, the universe, and everything.

Wednesday, November 14, 2012

Back in The Dark Place



Let me start off this blog post by sayin' that I love my step - brothers.  A lot.

Both are older than me.  For many years I was pretty close to the youngest step - brother, due to his residin' in the same town as Daddy and Mom (me step - mum). 

It wasn't until this ghastly year that I felt really close to my oldest brother.  He and his wife live in balmy Arizona, so gettin' close was a little difficult for us.  Miles tend to do that to families.  It's tough to get close when you're hundreds of miles away. 


This past May, both brothers stepped up to the plate and hit solid home runs.  They were there for me during one of the most difficult periods of my life.   I found not one, but two solid shoulders to lean on from them, and leaned on them I did.  And still do.


So why title this 'back in the dark place'?  Good question.  The middle kid of us three, as I've mentioned times before, is an over - the - road - truck driver.  He gets home once in a blue moon.  Thanks to social networkin', we are able to stay in contact, as he posts where he is at any given time; any interestin' sights he finds, and that kind of thing. 


That brother is home at this writin'.  He posted it on his FB page.  For which I am happy.  Then it dawned on me where the little locator was pointin' to when he said he was at 'my house' (his house).  And my little soul went back to its' dark place, where it's been feelin' most at home itself.

Because big brother's house was once Daddy's (and Mom's) house.  It made the loss all that more real. 

Nothin' against big brother callin' it his house.  It is his house.  That was the agreement between he and Daddy (Daddy and he, him?  Whatever).   I'm glad it's his house, and that he feels like it's home to him.  That's one Hell of a lot better than it standin' empty and waitin' for Daddy to come back. 

Which we all know ain't happenin'.  Not now, not sometime, not ever. 

But seein' those words on my iPhone screen someone drove that last little, itty - bitty, teeny - tiny, mustard seed of hope that somehow the last six and a half months plus was all a mass nasty dream.   That a major league cosmic April Fools' joke had been played, and one mornin' I'd wake up and find out that it had all been a bad dream based on eatin' somethin' that didn't agree with me. 

There was that small ray of hope somewhere that I'd stumbled into some kind of ghastly parallel universe and would one day find myself back to my universe and there Daddy would be, hale and hearty again. 


That little hope died today.  And all it took was two little words.  Two very innocent and very powerful words. 



And maybe it's just as well that the hope is gone.  Until the denial is overcome, copin' with reality was never goin' to happen for me.  Not as long as my psyche or inner child or whatever was holdin' out for somethin' that would never happen.


So for now, I've crawled back into that dark place where there is no pain from loss.  Where it doesn't hurt to feel.  It's that dark place where the hedonistic motorcyclist lurks and lives and battles the pain for me.  The pain of losin' my father; the pain of feelin' like my church has abandoned me; the wish to hear his voice on the other end of the line and knowin' it'll never happen. 


That dark place where the biker chick hangs out can handle the fact that it's 'big brother's house' now, instead of Daddy's house. 


Don't feel bad for writin' that, big brother, if y'all happen to be readin' this blog o' mine.  I didn't write it with the desire or intent to hurt ya.  I love ya, and am glad you're happy there.  I'm glad it is your house.    Now, I just need to think of it in those terms myself.  

Not Daddy's and your house.  Not the parents' and your house.  Your house. 


It'll come.  The next time i see it will be a little easier, and the time after that, and the time after that. 

Gettin' there is gonna be the hardest part.

1 Comments:

Blogger TEXAS MEL said...

Myra, I wish I could take away your pain, buy it away, anything. I'm so sorry.

November 14, 2012 at 4:00 AM  

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