Opening myself up to Tori and to accepting that Renee is gone... finally
Even though Tori Amos has been kind of a touchstone for me since I was an awkward teen, I've been pretty much unable to listen to Tori since Renee left us because all it does is remind me of Renee and how Tori's music was something we shared and loved together. But I'm trying to open myself up to Tori again and, in listening, I came across a song. I remember putting it on her memorial CD knowing it was about death and loss, thinking Renee might like it, but I was in that PTSD state then, still not processing it.
My apologies. This is a long post.
There have been many hard deaths in this family, but nothing has been so hard to deal with as losing Renee. I think, in many ways, I've always pushed it away as something temporary, something I never have to think about till I'm faced with it. And I live far away, so I don't have to be faced with it, so I can keep pushing it away, like...
...it isn't real.
it's hard, living in California, being so apart from the rest of the family. You don't have to deal with the grief directly. I'm not saying it's not hard to be reminded every day, but it's different. It's fresher, when you aren't confronted with that reality every time you turn around. Every time I buy a plane ticket to PA, I remember that Renee isn't there anymore. Every time I visit her mother's house and see the room that was hers, I break down like I just learned that she was gone because, in a way, I have.
Part of it is grief and part of it is impotent anger at the unfairness of it all. There's the anger that she was taken so young, taken from her daughters, from her mother, then part of it is selfish and just for me. I want her to be there and she's not and there's no one to fill the space she left. I never imagined my life without her in it and I'm pissed off that I have to deal with it as a reality. And I know it's a million times harder for her parents, her siblings, her husband, and her girls. But I'm still selfishly pissed for my own sake. Every time something good happens, it's bitter, because I can't hear what she'd say. Every time things go wrong and I want someone to talk to, I try to keep it in because there's no one who would hear it like Renee would and get angry for my sake and maybe curse about those involved and even make me laugh at the situation or call me out on how much I was over-agonizing about those idiots. Renee was my champion and my strongest port in any storm. She may be of an age to be my little sister, but she was a big sister in so many ways,
She was usually the main person I planned my visits around, the person I saw most. It's not that I don't care for my dad or my siblings or my aunts, but Renee was always close to me in a special way. I could talk to her about anything. And I don't have that with anyone else in my life, not family, not friends. My life is worse without her and no one will ever fill that space.
Anyway, I have avoided letting myself feel it in so many ways and taking Tori Amos out of my life was a big way to keep from facing this. Then I ended up clicking on a Tori song, and I started weeping through countless songs. Then I hit "1000 Oceans" and I kind of dried up.
Listening now, it expresses a lot of what I feel: the way I wish I could chase after her, but not keep her from flying. The way I wish our tears could bring her back. The way I wish that, when we meet again, that things could be like they were, but knowing I have no say in how we meet again and what it might be like and having to just live with that uncertainty.
I can't help but think Renee sent it to me now, maybe knowing I'm still struggling with her loss. Maybe she wanted me to feel the grief without so much anger.
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