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Conversations with a Ghost
I am not good with death. I am good with heartbreak, and diseases, and abuse, and depression. I'm the one you want to call when your dad cuts you out of his will or when your crappy ex boyfriend calls after a 2 month disappearing act and professes his recently discovered undying love for you. If you've recently been fired from your job or evicted from your apartment, or left pregnant and emotionally broken by your deadbeat drug addicted live-in partner - I'm your girl. But man, death? I got nothin'. I know it's because I haven't lost anybody close to me yet. It doesn't matter that I know it's coming and that there have been days in my recent past that death has blown kisses across my fingertips before just barely eaking by leaving my loved ones untouched - I still haven't been there. I haven't experienced it. I don't know what it feels like and I will not insult anyone who is experiencing those feelings by pretending that I do. That doesn't mean that it doesn't happen. I still get the phone calls and I still deal with them as gently as I can. "My mom passed away last Saturday," feels like a swift kick in my chest. My brain reels into overdrive and the only thing I can say, the only thing I will allow myself to say is, "are you okay?" I pray that she knows that I'm not asking if she's okay in that "you're not hurt, are you?" sort of way, because I know she's hurting. What I'm asking is if she has shattered into a million pieces and does she need someone to come and help her pick those pieces up? She knows. And she's okay. The relationship with her mother was fiercely passionate - they loved each other and hated each other with a ferociousness that I cannot even begin to comprehend. Her mother was all that she had in the world, and yet the death of her mother has felt like a huge weight lifted from her chest. Doors were closed and windows were opened, and most importantly...she's okay. I fumble through it - helping her fight off the feelings of guilt and staying quiet as the tears flow. I feel so lost in this conversation, as though the conversation is too big for me, I can't get my hands on it. I juggle it around clumsily and hope that I'm not hurting anyone with it. I didn't. This morning I breathed a sigh of relief. Listening To: Love Her for That by Teddy Thompson. Again. Reading: Bad Heir Day by Wendy Holden. The book is really pissing me off now. I can't figure it out. I'm hoping for a kick ass ending because otherwise I'm not going to be happy about wasting my time on this rubbish. Recently Saw: The Must See TV reruns last night. I totally love that Will & Grace with Kevin Bacon. It's one of my all time favorites.
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