It is 10:37pm Sunday, but I can’t seem to access the Internet so I will write now and, perhaps, post later.
My dad’s Aunt Jeannie died this morning. She was very old and had been fading for some time now. Fading. What a silly euphemism. Like she was a photograph left out in the sun for too long, as opposed to a vibrant and wonderful woman. Strange, the things we say to avoid saying the truth. She had been dying for months, maybe even longer. She was placed in hospice care nearly two months ago and we all knew that it was only a matter of time. And yet, still, when my dad told me the news tonight I found myself in complete shock. I mean, one minute I am beaming and laughing with my roommate and the next minute I am seeking out a place in the movie theater lobby into which I can tuck myself. I’m not even sad. Not really. Not about her death. I didn't know her well. She was very old. I am saddened by the news, but not actively sad. I think that makes sense.
What I am sad about is this: I’m sad that my family isn’t closer (more tight-knit, not closer geographically...although that too, I guess). I’m sad that I haven’t seen my cousins’ children in over a year, that the extended families (on both sides) don’t get together more, that I live so far away.
An old friend visited a few weeks back and he asked me if I was planning on staying in DC. The answer is yes. I am happy here. It took me awhile to accept that, but it is the truth. (One of the nice things about getting older is that I am accepting many truths about myself.) But, like so many things in life, the truth is also more complicated than that. The reality of it, in all of the shades of gray, is that I have a hard time reconciling the life I lead now with the life I thought I would be leading. I never in a million years thought I would really leave the Midwest. I never imagined living 800 miles from my family and closest friends. I never really thought I'd still be single at 26 (and seriously, by now I'm an expert single person). And yet here I am - all of those things and still happy int his life that sometimes seems so "wrong." It is a bizarre feeling – one that often leaves me feeling more than a little unsettled.
My dad’s phone call this evening stirred all of this up and as Elizabeth and I walked along the Potomac and back to the car (we saw a movie in Georgetown), I found myself unable to stop talking – even though I wasn’t making much sense. A similar sense of urgency compelled me to write this entry. It isn’t fluid and the thoughts aren’t followed through to completion (much like y writing in high school, if my teachers' comments are to be believed), but it’s where I’m at right now. No worries, it is not a bad place. In fact, I think it is a pretty familiar place for most people my age. One day I’ll look back on this and shake my head at my silly insecurities and naïve plans (after all, “man plans, G-d laughs”), but for now they are real and exist right alongside my contentment and confidence. Funny how that works.
1 comment:
I can understand, and often you have thoughts to put into words when I just have a blank mind.
My grandmother was dying for years and I was still moved when she died in Oct, but couldn't figure out the lack of grief since she was the first family member that we had the chance to figure out would die. But losing family often makes you want to be closer to the rest of them... something about the hug of family that can't be replaced.
I'm getting closer to what I had planned for my life now at 27 (not married yet... but look for an invite this year...) and at a job I never expected but I think I'm good at and enjoy for now. Just when I became content with who and what I was, life changed again, and for the better. So not planned... but better. I hope you find this true for you also.
May 2007 bring new joys and adventures...
B
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