This seems like the closing of another
chapter in my life. Perhaps one that started around the time I
parted ways with Mike. Perhaps it is the same chapter and it started
much earlier. I suppose its useless to examine that closely. The
point is that this is the end of the road for part of me. I can feel
that. I know that I am slowly dying inside. I checked back into my
dusty memory to see what I was doing during other phases like this,
when someone in my life was lost, close or otherwise. I wanted to
say this was the first time I'd had to endure something like this
alone. But that would be a lie.
When Daddy died, I was very
much alone. Robbie had gone. Garland was overseas and not yet a
real player on the stage. I had my poetry, my music, my solitude. I
didn't know what it was then to have a partner. It was beyond me
then to wish for the things I wish for now, a hand to hold, a
shoulder to nuzzle or cry on; a warm body to lie next to all day and
stare out the window at nothing and chat about nothing. Someone who
would bring me a cup of tea and say nothing at all, they would just
know that I needed it.
When Garland died, I was living with a
roommate who double-crossed me. Hawk was there for me, but I didn't show him everything,
in fact I remember trying to hide my grief. I felt ashamed. Shamed
about being engaged in the first place. Shamed about knowing that it
was not the path for me but trying to take it anyway. It was an easy
path at the time. It was something like a bad TV show, and I knew
better. Again, I had my poetry, my music.
When Hawk died, I had things to do. I
had to be there to collect and distribute his things. I had to deal
with Hawk's remains, and his roommate, who needed to get a life. The sense of purpose
I had at such a young age, doing such important things, took some of
the sting away for the moment. I had Freeway, so to speak but he
found his way to the door. Russ, well, Russ was my way of avoiding
the whole drama. It felt so much better to be made love to, to be
ravished and ached for, physically or psychically, didn't matter.
For so many months I pretended not to be grieving. I pretended not
to grieve at all, not for Daddy or Garland or Hawk. Through the
years I've paid a high price for this avoidance. My will seems
broken and my mind is not as strong as it used to be. I don't feel
like the “force of nature” I've been accused of .
As Mark dies this slow, painful,
wouldn't wish it on your worst enemy kind of death, I felt this part
of me dying too. I can wrangle with the anger and disappointment all
day. We can discuss, my therapist and I, how I was abused by him as
a child, as a sister, as a human being. But the bottom line is that
Mark, much like Daddy, Hawk and Garland, have not lived to see a day
when Melanie can be all that they wished for me to be. They will not
meet my lifemate, my children, if any of those are to ever be. I
tried to make him Uncle Mark to David and Christopher, but that just
didn't take. You can't force family on people. You can't make
people love you. And if they do love you, you can't make them do
right by you.
So, now, for all intents and purposes,
its just Mom and I. This will separate what's left of my
relationship with my mom. She will bottle her grief and act out like a
teenager. I for one do not have that kind of energy. I only have
this sense, this profound, unwaking nightmare, of feeling absolutely
and completely alone. For now, this loneliness stings and is the
only thing I can think about. My empty bed is my only safe haven.
As I hide from the world and feel this hollow, hollow emptiness, I am
constantly reminded of the vacant space next to me. Somewhere along
the line, someone showed me what it was to have a companion, to have
constant support and kinship. But I am left with secrets and memories of
those who would shape me forever. For better or for worse.
