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wTuesday, January 14, 2003 |
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i had this weird attack sort of thing on sunday. well it wasn't an 'attack' per se.
it was maybe an intense visualization of something awful and i couldn't shake it.
let me start by saying that my father passed away two months ago. which made
me re-evaluate everything: where i live and work, who is my family, who are my
friends, true friends. that i should spend more time with my mother, although
we have our differences. and i should try to be a better aunt and more present
in my nephews' lives. this past sunday, i was really looking forward to it. my
mom and sister and two little two-year-old nephew twins, we all went to Stubb's
Gospel Brunch. it was great! well, i don't know if the singing was all that great.
but it was great to have my family all together. i had tried a couple of times to
get my father and mother to go with me, just because. i even cancelled a
reservation we had once, well, because my dad was a lot more sick than i
guess any of us realized over the past year or so. he didn't feel up to it,
wasn't well enough to hit the town for a couple of hours. anyway, it was great,
these boys who are finally old enough to not be scared of me anymore, old
enough to enjoy themselves without crying for something, old enough and
smart enough and have their own little personalities, staring at the singers
on stage, beck dancing on the table as my mother held him. van letting me
carry him around and look at all of the lights on the sound board. i knew my
mother was going to start crying as she's hugging beck from behind him
and swaying with him as he was learning to dance a bit, as the women
sang Amazing Grace, the only song my mother requested to be played
at my dad's memorial service. but it was okay. as she whispers to me,
"your father would have liked this." and i respond, "i know."
"i know" is my answer to most everything these days. i think people
communicate to understand each other, what they think, how they feel.
when people scream, "there's no way you could understand what i'm
feeling!" it's sort of, "i feel so alone with these feelings" sort of feelings.
a "nobody could have ever felt this much pain" sort of feeling. the
"i don't see how they could have picked themselves up because i
can't even see a light at the end of the tunnel" kind of feeling. and
then, for someone to tell you or talk with you, that they've been there.
or they've felt that. or they know what you're going through. well, does
that just help you feel more sane that all these crazy thoughts in your
head and feelings in your heart aren't really that crazy after all. is it
just reassuring to know that others have survived such heartbreak
before and you weren't the first one and you will survive it, too.
and i guess you take a step back and you realize what you do
have, what you still have, and you treasure it. there was this one
moment after i had spent the whole week of christmas with my
mother, half the week just me and her, and at one point we got
into our usual fight where she does something then i say something
in my tone and then it turns into blah blah blah. anyway, i was going
out new year's eve, and she's on the phone sort of in a panic attack
saying, "jill don't let anything happen to you. i couldn't stand it. i
don't think i could go on if anything happened to you." and i responded
"mom! that's ridiculous! if anything ever happened to me, you HAVE
to go on and be a wonderful grandmother for those two adorable
babies of jen." and she said yeah you're right. but then i was all
terrified that something was gonna happen to me and she'd never
get out of bed for months.
all this in your mind, let's proceed back to this past sunday. we go
to the breakfast brunch. and it was great. and it was a rainy cold
day. and we stop at tj maxx so they can return the pirate ship
for the thomas the train set. and so i'm following them under the
intersection of 183 and braker. they had followed me before and
it was the first time i was behind them now. we're waiting at the
red light, and this car in front of my sister's car zooms through
their almost red light at speeds that people in austin do, running
the red lights as people in austin do. and all i could think to
myself was "Oh God Jennifer. Please do not go as soon as the
light turns green." over and over i thought, "Oh God Jennifer. Please
do not go yet." in less than a minute, i pictured everything horribly
possible. in front of me, were the only four remaining members
of my family. in front of me were ALL four members of my family.
in front of me was a 35-year-old woman, her two 2-year-old sons
and their grandmother. in front of me was this little honda that
was going to get sideswiped by some jackass who was late
for nothing on a sunday afternoon but too stupid to slow down
lest he sit at a red light. in front of me all that existed was gone.
i pictured myself not being able to get out of bed. nor go to work.
nor talk to anyone. nor eat. nor sleep. nor breathe. i couldn't
breathe. in front of me, everything that i knew died. i saw it.
it was awful, sitting there behind them, waving, they pull
forward and BAM. i pictured in slow motion watching their
car going to the right and killing the driver side immediately,
then swerving in the rain and hitting the wall of 183 about
four times, killing what was left inside, whatever had a chance
of surviving the initial impact, killing all that i knew was a family.
i pictured not knowing what to do and bawling immediately. i
pictured calling 911 on my cell and saying that twin 2-year-olds
are dying in a car wreck right now. please send an ambulance.
i pictured dead babies in their highly effective child seats, but
not effective enough to survive a full force crash of any kind.
i pictured collapsing to the ground and not being able to get up.
not being able to get up. i can't move my legs. i can't breathe.
people don't know we're related and don't know why this lady
is collapsed on the side of the road. i pictured running up there
instead, after calling 911, and the blood, oh the blood was
everywhere. i pictured checking for a pulse on my sister's
neck and finding nothing. i pictured my entire family, what
was left in it, dead in this one car. all of them. my body
gave way. i couldn't breathe. and then i really couldn't breathe.
i pictured it all, in so many ways, so many versions. i was
bawling and gasping for air. and wanted to get out of my car
and run up to their car and scream, "You can't all ride in the
same car! Ever!" I was bawling and i couldn't stop. i guess
i haven't really dealt with the loss yet, or my fear of death.
they were just gone. all four of them gone. in an instant.
i pictured the future and that since the nephews were gone,
i really wouldn't talk to my brother-in-law anymore. i mean,
if my sister had passed away, i think i would still try to be
an aunt for my nephews and force Todd to allow me and
my mom to visit her grandbabies. i pictured my aunt and
uncle in pennsylvania, who we hear from so little already
because they are so far away, and now that my father has
passed away we will probably hear from his brother less,
i pictured never really keeping in touch with them anymore.
i pictured my mother's side of the family, not really talking
to them much, seeing how we only see them once a year
on thanksgiving which sometimes turns into an unpleasant
visit anyway. i pictured never talking to todd again. pictured
him sitting there widowed, having just lost his wife and two
baby sons. pictured him sitting alone in his empty house
with nothing but reminders and memories and pictures of
what was. i pictured his mother and father and 90-year-old
grandmothers and sister and brother-in-law all being there
for him, however. him being smothered with attention when
all he might like to do is to be alone and mourn. him writing
or not writing. him experiencing a loss like i'd never experience
and me experiencing a loss very much unlike his. and yet,
never really talking to him again, this man who married my
sister and who is father to my two nephews, and without
them in my life, we really don't have a reason to remain in
contact. i pictured having to call him and not being able to
speak. i pictured having to plan the service and my mother's
entire real estate community and everyone telling me how
sorry they are for me and they have no idea. they have no idea.
they did not see the dead babies in the backseat. they did
not see the only family i had left in the world die right before
my eyes. they did not see the black void inside me that
caused uncontrollable crying and near-convulsions on a
rainy sunday afternoon experiencing something that did
not happen.
after that, i wasn't quite the same that day. we all took a nap
and my sister asked what was wrong. and i said well, i pictured
something horrible, i pictured you all dying in front of me, you
four can never ride in the same car ever again, you are all the
family i have left in the world. and she laughed, and said
what a weird thing to picture, we're all still here. and i said yeah.
but i couldn't shake what i saw. nor could i explain it.
sunday afternoon was quite tiring for me. and quite sad.
and it was all in my mind. but sometimes what is in your
mind is more real than the world around you.
this was the first time i've been able to write or even think
about it since sunday. email me if you have any comment at all.
posted by
reform school jill at 2:46 PM
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