You know when you lose sight of yourself for a moment in time, like a reflection of a reflection, a glimpsed shadowy face flashing by in strobe lighting, framed in the stark subway window.
The way it happens really, when trains pass by in inky subterranean tunnels, with blurs of bathroom-tiled stations, brief burst of light, and faces..real or imagined on other passing trains... and you see the shape of a visage in the glass, but do not know quite which way to turn, to see the true bearer of the eyes...the face... and it is almost a loss...but not...
It is dizzying, but then again, so can reality be... on that same train, examining the reflections of words in the glass, can sort of show you which station you are at, if you concentrate on the letters enough.
This time of year is formidable at times for me. It is the commencement of the dying, of being a child and misplacing two precious things, which were never to be found again. It is the dismal sensation of having something important missing at all times, like missing ones eyeglasses, or one shoe in the snow... It is the forever empty chair at the table... especially in these months.
My Dad died on January 23rd, almost 24 years ago. My Nana died February 6th, about two years after that. One would think, it gets easier with time, and yet.. it doesn't.. My body seems haunted by the loss of these two cornerstones of my life, the feeling of being left behind.
I can still see him in those last weeks, slowly slipping away, fading, entirely ravaged by his illness. I remember visiting him in the hospital, the room, the whiteness and texture of the hospital sheets, the color of the IV, and him... there, but blurred around the edges-almost.
Still, when he never came back from that hospital bed, it was a shock. It took time to sink in, that I would never see his smile, never see his blue eyes, never be carried into the house while pretending to be asleep again. The gone-ness was so complete, so thorough, as to be entirely overwhelming. I will never get over that moment... I... knew... I would ...never... see him again.
My Nana, I have written about before... When I saw her slower fade and blur, I knew what was coming, and it was a mercy for her. She was suffering and as desperately as I loved her, I had to accept that I needed to let her go. I had lost her true, wise, warm, prickly self, long before, to the stroke...so it may have been a mite easier, I don't know... but when I saw her lying there, lifeless, the spirit inside her extinguished, it was a hollow, cold stone feeling inside me, which never, ever went away...
This was the very first year I celebrated any form of Christmas since my Nana had her stroke. It was quite magical and wonderful, the tree, the lights, the kids faces in the morning. The new friends and amazing hospitality and generosity they offered... There was very much joy in the day...
and then there was the ache, "Oh, Nana...I wish you could have been here. Nana, wherever you are.. have you forgotten me? Have you forgotten our time together? Do you still love me? What do you think of all of this? All I have said and done to get to this here place..."
I do believe grief although always there, comes in waves. Every once in awhile, a really big wave of it comes and knocks me over. This time of year truly is a bit of a Tsunami to the psyche.
It is difficult to regain my footing, find my bearings, especially when looking backwards for too long though. This life is far too precious, far too short to be spent in sadness over the lost.
I have so much to be grateful for. Children who are lovely and bright and strong (TG), Someone special in my life, friends and family who love me, as broken as I can be, nevertheless they care enough to hold my hand, and be there for me, as comforting and healing as a favorite sweater drawn around my shoulders on a chilly morning. I would do the same for any of you...any day...
