A lifetime of difficulties landed hard.
Years of sadness, extremes, and bullshit highs.
Insecurities abounded and chaos prevailed.
Welcome to my world.
I was educated on “What will the people think?” stability. Happy, healthy home – yeah, that was an illusion.
Inconsistent love led to inward rage,
me only always wanting to run away.
Her generation’s dysfunction and the ones before were handed down.
The family poison designed to slowly kill your mind over time.
But she never counted on me fighting hard for my sanity.
I wouldn’t accept this lame gift fraught with pain.
So I cut ties and let her go.
It helped to put up clearly marked boundaries.
I could finally breathe.
I rose above the insanity to find my peace.
Then she died.
The drama spanning generations ceased.
My inheritance was freedom.
Something she never experienced.
despair at every turn me, an unwilling victim blockades to stop me turbulence swirling me about
My history embedded a lack of power in me.
Years of criticism, critique, and disgust took its toll.
Thick layers of neglect crusted over on this shell of me.
Defeated, ignored, and scared.
But I dared to feel more important than what the day rolled out.
I fought to experience life exquisitely, with the volume on high.
Determined to engage with this existence full of substance and force.
I clutched myself hard and pushed forward to lean loudly into my future.
soothe an ache
hold my hand
watch me sleep
rub my back
make me laugh
be with me
talk to me
play with me
dry my tears
keep me warm
listen to me
don’t be arrogant
kiss my lips
really know me
get me soup
touch without expectation
ease my sorrow
hug my soul
cry with me
dance with me
please be vulnerable
make eye contact
forgive my failings
care for yourself
sex me right
cook us dinner
walk with me
don’t lie, ever
read to me
hold me close
silence my demons
reach into me
never leave me
Pictures and scenery from years gone by flash before my eyes as I’m laying here on my deathbed. I’m simultaneously smiling and crying, wishing to be back in those memories as a more willing participant rather than just as a casual observer.
Who would have ever thought that desire to experience those times again would creep into my psyche? Weren’t those experiences hard the first time? Now laying here I realize, accepting this unfulfilled life is much harder to endure than all the things I had to go through while I was still young or even middle-aged.
Before withering away to my end, I had only watched the days go by without me really participating in them or enjoying sharing good times with others. Now, it’s an even lonelier existence. A hospital bed and my dreams to give me my only real comfort now; closing my eyes make me an audience of one to my past.
I experience a rare joy when nurses or doctors come to call. I can smile a bit with them, forget the sadness I feel. Then they leave and once again I am by myself, alone with my physical pain and my emotional sorrow. The tears flow silently, streaking my face like tiny little rivers through the cracks of my aged appearance.
Looking up, the ceiling offers no hope for some sort of release. I find the only way to escape this dreary loneliness is to sleep and join those characters that brought me what was, in hindsight, the most joy throughout my life. Experiences that I didn’t really know how to appreciate or even understand at the time. Simple pleasures like just being with someone I cared about and truly enjoying the time spent together. Looking at the sunset and its beautiful shades of color as it dipped down below the tree line. Feeling the wind blowing and licking my skin with its light, feathery touch. The little tingles of love and appreciation I should have felt when my children looked at me adoringly. If only I had taken the time to really let all those good things resonate in me deeply. If only I had been an active participant in my life while I had the chance then maybe the sadness now wouldn’t be so profoundly devastating.
I built a lifetime of feeling alone and preoccupied. Connecting to my existence, fully engulfing my experiences could have – oh, they would have – made for a richer take-away than what I chose to be left with at that time. So now I’ll exit this world with only memories, their impact and meaning only now being revealed; a lesson of life learned much too late.