A photo of the pink moon over Croton in a Facebook memory from 5 years ago, Gary commented, “My lovely lunatic. 💜”
it is getting close to the end, again.
five years ago this was your last two weeks on Earth. You didn’t know, I didn’t know. No one did, no one could.
I turned off facebook memories for those first three years, it’s too much.
(there have been years gone by, now, years without you. Years.) “those first three years” is a terrifying thing to say out loud. i digress.
As the memories come up for this week, though, I am warmed again by the things I see, the things you responded to, the way you responded. all not knowing what will come, all perfectly normal and routine and lighthearted and me rapidly cycling, clutching fast to anything stable
and then there is this yawning pit that opens and will never, ever close unhinges its jaws and e v e r y t h i n g in my life hurries in, disappearing.
it is only now, close to the end, again that i am beginning to see my way but is it clear? no, not yet.
I wish you got to see me today I have my new glasses My curls; the color of the hydrangea we planted out front and the porcelainberries that grow wild out back. hopefully soon they will belong to someone else someone else who will take so many closeup photos of them.
The curve of the tip of my nose I wish you could see it. You would kiss it.
breezy, uncertain i woke to grey light, dim the temporary buoyancy of yesterday, the day before gone. sometime in the night it left, stole away, slunk away embarrassed to have lifted only to leave “i’m sorry,” whispers on the breeze “i’m sorry, that wasn’t for you.”
i’m sorry that wasn’t for you.
my shoulders all wound together knit together, snicked tightly, bound. the hand that holds my pipe tensed and clawed the tips of my fingers white from the pressure
unclench your hand, look at your fingers. sit up, you don’t have to get up. sit up straight, you can stretch. you remember most of it. take in deep breaths of this shaded air look up aggressively blue sky hidden (thankfully) mostly by the canopy there are a lot of silvery clouds breaking up the blue
today feels very uncertain, I feel the mania pulling my shoulders together i will do everything that I can but there is only so much available.
I have all of this proof Physical proof of how good I am, how talented, how good, how kind. I have emotional proof. People say lovely things, in front of other people. About me they say these things. Lovely things in front of other people. It can be an entire day of people saying lovely wonderful things about me, showing how much they appreciate what I have to offer.
And all it takes is one motherfucker to bring it down.
I was already in trouble when I woke up yesterday morning. My only goal was to get home to Mojo. To keep that in my head to get home to him, to make sure that he was eating, that he was feeling okay. My only goal, my far point was Mojo. I talked to myself all through my shower to make sure that I brushed my teeth. I brushed my teeth.
I was still not okay when I got out of the shower. I was not okay when I got dressed. The entire drive. Not okay. Knowing my far point.
Got where I was going. Shared that I was not okay. Shared enough fast enough to be as clear as possible. Eyes bright and wide. On. I know that when I am like this (you know how you get) I know that when I am like this I have to protect myself at all costs because to not do so would be dangerous for everyone.
The day went. Carefully. Shared my work to delight, to lesser delight. To what seemed cursory, perfunctory, obligatory. Unreal. Inauthentic. I want people who love, truly. I don’t want someone uncaring, not in any part of my life.
Other skills, gushed over. Lauded. Delighted in. Shared. shared out loud.
All day all day I had teetered on the edge, this rollercoaster poised and threatening at the very top. LOUD VOICES CLOSE CLOSELY loud and close and disharmonious and unyielding eyes slitted, accusing Voices louder.
No. I can’t be, there. I excuse myself away, not far enough but out of sight but not out of tension’s grasp. The only thing I have left to help is disassociation because I cannot physically get far enough away. So I go away. Eyes burning into the computer screen totally focused on the pen in my hand and the rage behind it summoning internal music to fill my skull loudly drown out the screeching noises outside and in. I share. Bits of what’s happening. To exorcise it. Flush it out.
My face is a mask, deadened expression, eyes down. I comply when needed.
The only thing I can remember now is this: “I know you get anxious when it’s loud and there’s a lot going on and and and but you can’t let that SHOW. They said you’re always angry.”
Remain relevant, and ready. Always remain value-added.
I want the chance to be relevant to you. I have shown you that I am ready, how ready. And that last, yes. Value-added plus.
worrying, though about the ratio.
i stay quiet. not still, but silently humming thrumming focusing focusing on the exclamation mark. ! how many you use, and when. and when.
the rain comes again again i am in the car, windows cracked i don’t particularly need the music to actually hear it but I play it anyway wondering if it’s raining where you are, six hours ahead your sky just as dark as mine, darker.
wanting to know what made you think of me when ‽ you do think of me.
I want the chance to make you smile at me. that glorious, sweet face. I want the chance to spend time with you, to know more of you. I want the chance to mean something to you.
I wonder what you would say if you met my Brian. Would you look up at him and say (head cocked like the dog on the victrola commercial)
how? how are you so good? why are you so good? I see how she loves you. Everyone does.
And he would look at you with kindness in his eyes and his voice would drop and he would say
aww sweetie because you are me.
I want you to feel the love I feel I want you to know what this feels like because I don’t know that you ever have. I don’t know that I have ever felt this love for you before now. now, when it is un/complicated.
It hurts me that this is here and you are not. That I am here, That you are not.
i am thankful. greatly grateful. hugely. for my family, with whom i did not spend the day, but who understands, or at least is willing to take my word for it that it would only harm me to be there. i am grateful for my friends, my lovers, my loves. the people with whom i did spend time, both physical and emotional. trying to be as out of my head as i could stretch while still remaining tethered, albeit tenuously. knowing that this feeling as all feeling always does will pass and that there is indeed if not light then a less-dark path.
I have so much to say to you so much that, um, I just i keep thinking that
I keep wanting to
I just I just want to share with you. I just wanna tell you I just want you to see me now. I want i really
and I don’t think you would blame me for where I am. I don’t think anymore that you would blame me for where I am. Because I
depended on you so much
i depended on you so much and it just took everything away.
you’re gone.
and everything you did stopped with you.
There’s no one here. To see me doing fuck all.
There’s, there’s no one.
No one to report to.
There’s no one here.
There’s Mojo. He was real happy that I went to bed at 9:30 and fed him first and got into bed and he came right in with me. And we snuggled all night, got up around six or something for his medicine. And then went back to bed. Had like 10 hours of sleep sort of
what the fuck am I supposed to do now? what do I do now?
I mean, if I thought there was no way before and then there was but now it’s like everything is used up. I, i If I spend the money I have on the car, I will have nothing else. nothing. I don’t, I don’t, I don’t know what I’m supposed to do now.
The Salty Widow 