I am on firmer footing or perhaps not, I am on familiar footing, there is a difference. I have struggled since Gina died. Which quite frankly made me angry at myself. It is ironic, on one hand I like to talk about the beauty of grief about how grief is rooted in love. How grief is beautiful, but when I am actually grieving I am lame and impatient with myself, I insist on timelines, I don’t want to hear about grieving I want to resolve and bounce back, and I do. It just takes longer than I want it to, and I haven’t gotten to the place in my life where I can be okay with that.
It takes time and that makes me angry. Which is stupid because like I would be all proud to be a sociopath and not grieve? It is not as sharp though, the reality of my mortality which of course her death brings up is not as acute. Old pettiness is rearing her pretty and seductive head. That always happens when death comes a knocking, that lifting of the veil of our fragility, depression brings that too, and I think to a large degree my anxiety keeps that with me all the time. Every interaction I have with you or anyone else could be the last, I am acutely aware of that. I do blame that in a large degree on my adoption, my God, I lost myself, anything could happen. I also enjoy the fact that I so acutely don’t take anything for granted.
I was walking around the corner last week and the wind hit me, it has been unusually windy, all I could think is ‘this wind is hitting me and not hitting Gina and I don’t know why, and I am guilty’ And I know I am not guilty, but I feel guilty. I feel guilty that I am living a life that is bathed in a fine ether of love, that I feel really loved by my SH and my son, that I live in one of the most fantastic places I can imagine living, that I have a beautiful cranberry colored coat. That I work with interesting people who are making a real difference in the world. That people respect me professionally. That people laugh at my jokes. That I have lived my life in La Zona Rosa, I have, I know that. I mean there have been huge struggles, and my relationship with my natural family causes me a tremendous amount of pain, but in other ways? I have been really, really lucky.
Gina was like me, she always had this sense of herself that belied her circumstances. She wasn’t as introspective, she wasn’t as questioning. I can see in real time now how that benefited me.
I was stopped again, on a street corner by a woman of indeterminate age, she was black with blue eyes. Black people do not age like white people, her skin looked smooth but she told me she was sixty. “I just soiled my pants, ma’am, can you help me buy new pants? I am sixty years old and seem to have lost control of my bowels” Tomtom was at my elbow. I looked at her and said, “Yes” I reached into my wallet and pulled out a ten-dollar bill. I handed it to her.
Tomtom was frustrated he sees me a lot like the mom in the Cherry Orchard, he doesn’t think I have a lot of sense, but I do. “She was playing you mom, no one who craps their pants announces it, you are a fool, we need that money”
I walked on to avoid her, “Mom you are a fool” he continued.
“It’s not right” I said thinking of the woman, and thinking of Gina and her illness and her lack of medical care or help. Her lack of the ether of love that she promised me would be enough and was enough for me, but not enough for her. The photo-collage and me getting exhausted of pictures and memories, some good, some gruesome.
“Yeah, but that woman was playing you, you are a fool” he continued, because he is young and because I have sheltered him from a lot. Because I spent my whole life sheltering him from what I experienced, because he has never lived a moment of his life being unwanted, being second best, being anything other than a doted upon and loved child.
He continued to badger me as I looked up the hill into the sunlight, until I snapped, “Look, I don’t care, I don’t care if she played me, some things in life are just not right and some day you will know that” He doesn’t believe me, but he will. He will live and gain experience and see the sad things that we see as we age.
It sucks that I feel guilty for going to other countries and sitting in luxury boxes at the symphony and getting my photo taken for being at fancy parties. It sucks that she is the one that gave me the confidence to raise my son, despite my lameness. Despite the even greater lameness that her family offered her. It sucks that she didn’t get the breaks she deserved and I got lots of breaks I didn’t deserve. It sucks that I hurt so much over it, even though I promised myself I WOULD NOT. And why did I make myself that stupid-ass promise ?
And then we go for a hike at Sugar Loaf, we eat an expensive dinner. Tomtom complains about my shopping habits, (lack thererof) and SH laughs and says, “your mom is a city-girl” All the time I am feeling so loved and feeling the absence of Gina, and why the fuck did she not get this? Why ? I don’t know.
Some things are just not right. So all I can do is throw money at it What do you want? I am white.
(((Joy)))
Grief can be like little knocks, it can consume, it can be irritating or brutal. And all in one day. You are a rare bird, a rare and beautiful bird, and I am fortunate to call you my friend.
Thank you for sharing what you feel about Gina, and your memories. There is no making sense of untimely deaths or unfairness, and yes, we have to wade through things somehow. And in doing so, and being aware of doing so, it’s all that much more difficult.
xxoo
When we are the survivors it is sometimes hard to make sense of it and the guilt we feel.Adoption makes us clever survivors and we often protect our kids from the worst of our struggles. I know I did and my chickens have come home to roost. Life ain’t easy, ever and loss will always cause reverberations. Keep looking after yourself, symphonies are important and keep your compassion, it is a quality without price. We have choices, we can allow ourselves to be taken for a sucker in full knowledge for our own reasons or not.Kids hopefully will one day grasp that and do the same.
I’m so glad you are my friend, and not a sociopath. Much love.