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And he said his heart was mine, but no longer was this time.
And he saved me from my fall, but wouldn't see me fly
From what I know,
I never expose
Secrets not mine to keep
Pain he lent to me
Hurt we bury deep,
Still won't die
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It was a hard thing HAVING one kind soul to which I was able to share most of my past. Then have that person disappear when I was grieving deepest.
Now, what's formed...is the bottomless pit of my tears that continue to drip down into my lap
It would seem unfair, except I suppose my normal state of being is alone. This one time, I thought, I would not be. The solitude is better suited for me, it would seem
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When I express that I'm weird (which I do frequently), it is an understatement for certain. Years of death & pain and crushing me down to numbness… And calling it strength is a farce. It shapes a person to possesses a dented soul.
If I have to recall my first dent, it was age six.
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(Couldn't find a clear one of age 6)
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It's a trivial thing being stuck at an odd stage when you're no longer a baby or a toddler and yet not a big kid. It was my bane. Every other thought was of Aging quicker, of being Older… So Displeased with my current age. I suffered about a week of that before I learned something that gives every gentle person pause...The day after I had spent time at my local park, enjoying my playground highlight; the swings... I learned that a girl of five was shot. At that very same park. Off those very same swings.
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Immediately, I went from wanting to be older to realizing someone was mourning a small child, a sibling, a niece, a church member, and much worse, a daughter. It was my neighborhood, I am sure I knew the family. Would have to share the pain...Would have to ride over to the house as we took over a dish... It was a shared pain…far from our last. This little girl, the first of hundreds of names, I can't recall.. would never see six and We would grieve our loss. One thing I will say, we always cried together as a community. Though… far too often. This is my first encounter with grief, my first reality check, but not the last.
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Ii is said that our American CIA poured drugs into certain neighborhoods. I even recall an apology being given. What is not ever told is the context. My own government ran a social experiment to fund their affairs. Blue collar workers were losing jobs, many Boeing and factory workers had already been laid off. Many working individuals became unemployed.. Taking two and three jobs to compensate the lost. Their kids.. Well, after school without supervision kids get into what they can. For many of us it was hop scotch, tree climbing or bike riding. Some chose another path...
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An uncounted number of older kids became acquainted with this new party drug. As did a few parents who thought they were trying some new social thing...They had "fun" with friends or close neighbors. Drugs hit the 80's & 90's like a thief and a wrecking ball. It took many when it struck. Countless faces, lost. The boy I used to see walk to school every morning, the kid who bagged groceries, the neighbor from around the corner.. All lost. With time they become faceless. I couldn't keep track. That was my real shame. My real pain. The faces, I can't recall. Tears for names I'm now mispronouncing. They have become my Faceless Men and I their Arya Stark. (Yep, always a Thrones reference..I'm committed 😏)
Perhaps I can't remember each name, but I remember the pain. I suppress it all year, but in April I break. My April Showers, as it were. The month of my late great grandmother's birth and my grandmother's passing in 2015.
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For past loved ones, I grieve.. For new losses, I grieve.. For Faceless Men, I grieve.. Then there are the "truths" I still learn years after the fact.
A school friend of mine (who will remain nameless) had to watch his mother OD (overdose) over 3 times. Yet he couldn't watch Married with Children while we were kids. Such a weird thing I used to think. My people were Boeing and Western ..upper middle for the time.. I watched religiously. Here he was staring the worst reality in the face, but couldn't escape via this show because of the content. Twisted Irony.
We all shared great loss and sought refuge for it. Despite his lack of TV, he keep his mother alive. The same can't be said for so many others. I never knew this was why he became one of the "bad kids." As if anyone could refrain from acting out under those circumstances.
My kid brain used to wonder why kids didn't just go to visit grandma (either one, maternal or paternal) when their mom got sick. The harsh reality is that NOT everyone had the same influences I had. Some had no one at all. How do you digest that? I was 9 when I faced the idea that some kids went home to an empty house and little to no food.
That was far from my life and what I knew. All my cousins and I attended the same schools. We kept it local. So, that we could all meet at grandmother's house afterwards. I was the eldest. I helped everyone with homework and then supervised playtime until all the parents arrived. I was always surrounded by family. I always had one person who I knew loved me. More than... We ate fruit fresh off the tree. Some veggies too. A tomato never made it to the house once it reached my hands.
My grandmother had volunteered at her kids school, the same elementary we all attended. So, everyone knew my family. Kids and adults would just show up to socialize and leave with plates of food. That was normal life. A well connected community. I remember seeing pain in my grandmothers face when someone would tell them how hungry they were. She would weep once they left and say. "Now why wouldn't they come here sooner?"
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That's what I knew. Even if you had no one, you could come visit us. I had so much adopted family. It was always hard for me to make friends, Number One, I spoke differently. Here I was in the center of Southern California and all one could hear was the Lousiana in me. But not just that. It was a special blend. A mix of Spanish, Creole, 'Bama, Arkansas, Tennessee and Texas with a Cali twist. All of my "adopted" family carried this accent. A very comforting thing. There were several of me.
Any new friend not only got me, but an entire family. Yet even then, I only chose one friend at a time. With my weekends bursting with 75-100 loved ones..I was always overwhelmed. At a point, I would retreat to my room. It became customary, if anyone wanted to find me, that's where I would be. A social hello to the first weekend arrivals and I would tuck myself away. It never changed. I still do the same. I am still the introvert tucking herself away...not so healthy when dealing with grief.
In April it sets in deep. Knowing the emotional mess I am, it's best that I step away. No one needs a sad person moping up the place. I like being positive. If I can't be that, I don't want to infect anyone with negativity. I have had my mood spoiled a few times and I don't like to pass that along. Oddly, I don't mind hearing anyone's problems. I just hate those who are always negative about everything (also known as Me in April). To keep from being known for THIS or some strange emotional outburst, I keep my weird far away. Yes, you're welcome. 😏🙃
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How does that help with grief? Being honest, it doesn't. It just helps me from severing or hurting important relationships. Left alone with great pain is never safe. I fell down the spiral of endless tears and literal heartache (seriously, I might have to get that checked) During the thick of it, I heard my phone ring. Amanda. That's her name. Then again, it chimed. Brandon. Just checking in. A few concerned messages from 
who literally threw a party for the team. My family.. All of them.
To top this happy sappy ice cream -don't judge me- My neighbor thought she was doing me a disservice by sending me her children (who are a similar age to my mini me's) It was the second best thing that happened. My physical and online family checking on my well being, extra happy faces in my home, both brightened me. Not to say I did not have days I just laid and sobbed the entire time..I did. But I had reasons, motivations and positive feedback once I lifted my head.
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A bit disarrayed, weak and not the same body type I went into this month with (gotta tone all over again) I was made to go outside. Then kept there for a whole weekend. I was surprised by family. I got to spend time with my mom, sisters, nieces and nephews. I saw Avengers Infinity Wars twice (worth it). A few notes in hindsight... should maybe not hold 35 lbs babies, walk around with them or walk them.. because my whole body aches. Running after small children is exhausting after 9 days of sitting in sorrow. They tired Tee-Tee out!...Completely. (And to compensate I continued redecorating the house on Monday/Tuesday)
For days after, I was barely moving. (Worth it.) It sits me down, but it's a better pain. To be shown love by new and old family Is something I can only be grateful. A special thanks to Dee for taking s break from hating me 😋😬🤗. A brat is what I am 😝
I will always miss those no longer with me. I will mourn them every year. New faces will join them. (my cousin Cleo being the newest one) More than their absence, what I feel RIGHT NOW are the presence of new and incredible human beings: 
A Girl is terribly sorry for her absence. Grief takes its toll. I see plenty of sun and time with family in my future so expect to see that coming soon.
Thanks for spending your time with me today. 🤗
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