(no subject)
I will never again have that moment. That moment when you wake and the world is new again and nothing has gone wrong and everything has promise and nothing at all has been taken from you. How do you tell someone about your greatest loss? How could I relate losing my father? How do you tell that like it’s a story? Where is its beginning? How do you point out the exact moment when your anger turns into the knowledge that you’ll never be happy again? And does it have an end? Was I supposed to say that it never has stopped happening to me? How do you say that? You can’t. You can’t put it into words. It’s something that lives in you, it’s supposed to.
My father is now the subject of my mother’s great unhappiness. If I had been the one to do this to her, if I was the weight that bore down upon her shoulders, then at least I could be of some use. I swear, I would wrap my arms around the whole of her infinite sadness and I would bury it in the bedrock, or I would be the anchor that dragged it to the bottom of the ocean, or I would take all of the birds in the world and I would tie a cable to this fucking thing and I would fly it off into the atmosphere. But that’s not how it is. All I can do is watch as this takes ahold of her, as it, one by one, turns off the lights in the sky and dresses her in the black folds of her grief and makes me impossibly small.
My father is now the subject of my mother’s great unhappiness. If I had been the one to do this to her, if I was the weight that bore down upon her shoulders, then at least I could be of some use. I swear, I would wrap my arms around the whole of her infinite sadness and I would bury it in the bedrock, or I would be the anchor that dragged it to the bottom of the ocean, or I would take all of the birds in the world and I would tie a cable to this fucking thing and I would fly it off into the atmosphere. But that’s not how it is. All I can do is watch as this takes ahold of her, as it, one by one, turns off the lights in the sky and dresses her in the black folds of her grief and makes me impossibly small.