when i have fears that i may cease to be
It's strange. I'd been dreading this day since mid July and now it's happened, although to a lesser degree, I guess...
I'm talking about Yeye's spoon cup. The white one that measures a perfect 250ml, and has been something of a representation of Yeye for as long as I can remember. I don't know a time when it wasn't around, and makes me curious as to how long he's actually had it.
The fear I'm talking about is... "When the cup is gone, when it breaks... I fear that is a sign he will die soon." Who knows if it actually is, but the simple misplacement of the cup makes me panic and anxious.
This morning, too, I had a reality check about how old Mama and Yeye are getting. They needed my help putting some REALLY tight socks on Mama's feet. I feel as if a timer has already started counting down, but I don't know if it's only just started counting down now or if I've just become aware of it now. It frightens me.
The loss of Mama and Yeye never occurred to me until lately, even though Dad's always been hinting at it, saying, "You should help Mama and Yeye. They're getting old," and other such lines. What's been reminding me of my old rough encounters with them are, actually, my younger siblings to my Mum and Henry. Rico says things like, "You're the worst mama in the world! I can't believe you! I hate you!" It vividly reminds me of a time when I was young, when Yeye would wake me up and get me ready for school... He'd tie my shoes, and I remember I'd swear at him because he was too slow. I'd call him a slowpoke, stupid, and a turd. All atrocities someone under ten knows. I feel really bad for it know, but I don't know how to bring it up.
This might relate to how I can't tell Mama and Yeye I love them. I do, of course, but it's almost like it's so obvious it doesn't need to be said. The words fall so effortlessly out to my siblings, but they're stuck in a grate when I even will them to Mama and Yeye. You see, they've never said it to me, and I've never said it to them. I felt so strange the first time Uncle Janvin said, "Love ya, cheeks," one day when we were hanging up a phone call. I felt stupid, and I didn't know what to say, how to reply. I said, "Love you, too," even though I felt as awkward as fuck saying it.
Love isn't a word flown around in this house. It's really awkward saying it TO someone, in this house. Like it's a forbidden word. Even though however many feelings are felt, are there, they can't ever be worded.
Except the negative ones. Which makes this house, I guess, a pile of negativity, despite the positive feelings.
Just thinking about them being dead, or dying, can cause heaves of feelings to erupt from me. I feel sadness, and the general word, "NO!" inside me. Wants, needs, and can't haves. I want them all.
I'm talking about Yeye's spoon cup. The white one that measures a perfect 250ml, and has been something of a representation of Yeye for as long as I can remember. I don't know a time when it wasn't around, and makes me curious as to how long he's actually had it.
The fear I'm talking about is... "When the cup is gone, when it breaks... I fear that is a sign he will die soon." Who knows if it actually is, but the simple misplacement of the cup makes me panic and anxious.
This morning, too, I had a reality check about how old Mama and Yeye are getting. They needed my help putting some REALLY tight socks on Mama's feet. I feel as if a timer has already started counting down, but I don't know if it's only just started counting down now or if I've just become aware of it now. It frightens me.
The loss of Mama and Yeye never occurred to me until lately, even though Dad's always been hinting at it, saying, "You should help Mama and Yeye. They're getting old," and other such lines. What's been reminding me of my old rough encounters with them are, actually, my younger siblings to my Mum and Henry. Rico says things like, "You're the worst mama in the world! I can't believe you! I hate you!" It vividly reminds me of a time when I was young, when Yeye would wake me up and get me ready for school... He'd tie my shoes, and I remember I'd swear at him because he was too slow. I'd call him a slowpoke, stupid, and a turd. All atrocities someone under ten knows. I feel really bad for it know, but I don't know how to bring it up.
This might relate to how I can't tell Mama and Yeye I love them. I do, of course, but it's almost like it's so obvious it doesn't need to be said. The words fall so effortlessly out to my siblings, but they're stuck in a grate when I even will them to Mama and Yeye. You see, they've never said it to me, and I've never said it to them. I felt so strange the first time Uncle Janvin said, "Love ya, cheeks," one day when we were hanging up a phone call. I felt stupid, and I didn't know what to say, how to reply. I said, "Love you, too," even though I felt as awkward as fuck saying it.
Love isn't a word flown around in this house. It's really awkward saying it TO someone, in this house. Like it's a forbidden word. Even though however many feelings are felt, are there, they can't ever be worded.
Except the negative ones. Which makes this house, I guess, a pile of negativity, despite the positive feelings.
Just thinking about them being dead, or dying, can cause heaves of feelings to erupt from me. I feel sadness, and the general word, "NO!" inside me. Wants, needs, and can't haves. I want them all.