So my aunt, the one whose house I used to go to when I was smaller, is in the hospital with congestive heart failure. My mom doesn’t seem to think she’ll last too long. Most of me doesn’t care, but a small part of me does. Not too long ago my uncle, her husband, was put into a long-term care facility and I for sure didn’t care about that-a small part even hoped that he was miserable there.
It’s hard to explain the feelings. How can you care about someone who let so much bad into your world? My mom tries to talk about it, but I have nothing of much value to add to the conversation so I stay as still and a quiet as possible. I worry about what will happen if she dies. Will they have the funeral where she is now, or will they cremate her and bring her back here to have it? Further away feels safer but I’m anticipating them bringing her here considering she has a plot already near my grandparents which is here.
If she dies I don’t want to go to the funeral. I don’t want to see those people who did so much harm all those years ago. They stand there in denial full of delusion and a pathetic avoidance of reality and choose to ignore the wounds I have to live with every day. And I hate them for even having that choice. But I can’t walk away either. Because they’re my family and I want to belong with them. I want their love and acceptance. I want them to be proud of me. That’s what’s killing me, that awful, pointless, incredibly painful hope for the impossible.
I feel the vast expanse of nothingness laid out before me. I don’t know what to do with it in this moment so I do nothing. But that doesn’t feel like the right thing to do. I’ve reached that point again where talking feels hard. I don’t want to do it, not even about the ordinary, everyday things that mean nothing to me. Caught in a web, there is this pain, an indelible pain that takes hold within you, as if possessed by an otherworldly force unbeknownst to you, and which you seemingly have no control over. And we feel powerless to stop it. So we do what most of us do in this sort of situation: we run from it. We hide from it. We pretend it isn’t there.
The sadness of our life situation engulfs us and we do nothing to stop it from happening. We know that there is something that needs to be done, urgently, but we are at a loss. Something inside always hurts and we know it comes from the damaged part of our soul. We need to let it breathe, to release it into the wild as it is no longer valuable to us but we don’t know where to begin. For now, we will survive, even if it’s just for just a little while longer.