In the aftermath of Ronnie's death, I thought I would need to talk. I thought I would be going through my cell phone and calling everyone, finding someone to talk to every night. I don't know what I thought I would say. But I certainly didn't think I would say...nothing. The truth is, I think about calling my friends - all of the wonderful people who said, "Call me if you need me." And I want to call, if nothing else to just say thank you for the offer. But I can't. It's like I am rendered speechless at the very thought of trying to express anything to anyone. I have been struck dumb by this situation, unable to find words that have any meaning.
***
Last night, Mom wanted to know if I wanted anything to eat before bed. I said no, I would be fine. What I meant was, no my stomach is revolting. I'm taking my medicine dutifully every morning, but it's just...not enough. Under the circumstances, what could possibly be enough? And so, everyday, there is some point in the day that it fails me. There is some moment when I think about Anna being alone, I think about what she's going through (or try to imagine it) and it comes at me in a huge wave. My face burns, the acid pours into my stomach, and my mouth quivers. It's coming - The Panic is coming and I'm too tired to fight it. Most of the time, it just hovers there, threatening, as though it might be taking pity on me.
***
The last week, I've been having terrible nightmares. I don't know what they're about...they're not storied dreams. Rather they're like bright flashes and scenes, some real and some conjured from the darkest parts of my subconscious. Whatever they are, they are terrifying. I wake up sweating - not perspiring - sweating with rivulets running down my torso, my shirt wet, my sleep pants soaked. And the waking is always sudden, always as though I have just gotten to that moment where I can't take anymore and I have to tell myself, "This isn't real." And I lay in the darkness, eyes open, panting softly, miserable in my damp pajamas, and think that what is real isn't that much better.
Monday, March 10, 2008
March Madness
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4 cat calls:
I'm sorry that you are having such a difficult time. I can certainly share your experience of feeling like everything is a nightmare. Just today, I was thinking about Adam and hoping that maybe it was all just a horrible dream; I still find myself having a hard time accepting the fact that it's real and that there's no escaping what's happened.
It's totally understandable that you aren't up for talking. Just do what you need to do with no obligations.
We will all keep thinking of you and your family.
Ugh. Wake me up when it's 2009.
Here, here, Pen...
Wake up now and smell the roses. I DON'T WANT YOU TO MISS IT! I will yell at you like I yell at Pen. Don't think i won't. And then I will hug you and tell you to knock it the fuck off. I can also quote Hamlet or Jo'b if you'd like also.
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