in my bones

Elephants have cemeteries.  Its true.  They visit the bones of lost members of their herd, and rub the bones with their trunks.  They say an elephant never forgets.

I wanted to forget.  I wanted to put all the sadness away; bury it far down like a hidden secret.  I quit writing about it.  I put it away, but it was like sitting it on the mantle of the fireplace to stare at you every day, screaming “Look at me!  Touch me!  FEEL ME!” And, I’d look at it every day, then tell it to fuck off.  But, I left it there to stare me down every morning and on the way home from work and when a picture would be found in a box, and mostly every time I heard the word “sunshine.”  Certain songs and it would laugh at me.

I promised myself I would change my life.  I’d be happy.  I’d cherish every moment, and I’d lose the things that drag me down.  All that baggage, I’d find a way to lose it, get rid of it, bury it in the desert. I’d find peace and love and move on.

Its been five years, and I never realized how angry I am until last night.  There was this uncontrollable urge to rip everything off the walls and out of the cupboards and watch it all shatter into pieces on the ground, ‘cause my heart still feels likes its doing just that. I wanted to tear my hair and scream at the top of my lungs…the temptation of giving in to the urge was overwhelming.

Destruction.  Complete and utter destruction.  Chaos.  I wanted it out of my chest and into the real.  I wanted to SEE it crashing all around me, so that I didn’t have to feel it.  So I could see it and know it was real and THERE...HERE. I wanted it in slow motion…to see the pieces of everything shatter in a time lapsed sequence, so I could say, “THERE!  THAT is what its like when everything…just… breaks…”  That moment in the photograph when all the pieces are flying into the air, right before they start descending back to the earth, stopped, the edges blurred…white porcelain, fragile, and flying, but frozen in time, and I wanted it broken, so shattered there would be no chance of ever putting the pieces back together.  Teeny, tiny shards that poke you in the night and wake you up wondering …

I’d like to say I’m so mad I could scream, but, I’ve been screaming this whole time.  Screaming, screaming, screaming in the confines of a space where only I can hear.

I’ve told myself others have lost more, felt more, deserve to grieve more.  That my loss is lesser.  But, I’m confused, because my loss hurts.  Dear God, it hurts  to the marrow of my bones.  It hurts in the kinks of my guts.  I make my toes smile, but even they hurt sometimes.

I just cannot, for the life of me forget that day.  It won’t go away.

I never wanted to be mad.  I always wanted to feel blessed. I was so lucky to have a friend like that, and I just CANNOT wrap my head around WHY, and it pisses me off.  To no end.  I don’t get it, and I have come to the realization I never will.

I give myself one day a year to cry…and God and everyone in this house knows I sob.  I just can’t believe I never let myself be mad.

I’m smart.  An intelligent, educated person.  I KNOW the stages of grief.  Shit, there’s been enough of it through the years, but I can’t believe I wouldn’t let me be mad.

So, now I guess I just ask for some leeway to be fucking pissed off.  I decided I need two days this year, ‘cause yeah, right now, I’m angry.  I’m irritated.  

I just want one more day, to open the in-box, or answer the phone, or call her, and share a cup of coffee and bitch to the only person that ever got in to see the workings. We talked EVERY damn day.  The only person that ever understood, because our lives were so similar.  I want one more conversation with my soul sister.  To tell her how much I love her, how much I miss her and the wine and getting lost.  Tell her I miss how much we laughed…how for so long, she was the rock I parked my ship on.  

I want her to know there was ONE person that knew everything, that never judged me, that was JUST like me.  I just want one more conversation, and two days to rage…then I will go back to the bones, the barest of bones, and I will be ok.  For now, I need to be mad.

I will be mad, and then like the lotus, that gets buried in the scum, then blooms at the surface, I will find the sunshine.