There are teardrops in my coffee this morning because I get bad news before I even drink a full cup.
Watching somebody close to you grow ill is beyond painful. And it also feels lonely and isolating.
Not everybody wants to hear the stories I share because they're too dark or too sad. Others feel their own pain and can't bare to hear my reality.
I'm not quite sure how to live my life while dealing with this big, dark thing that is right next to me. How am I supposed to date people? Thrive at work? Thrive in school? Maintain friendships? I'm so exhausted, and am watching those pass by me and live so presently. I feel like I'm missing out on life because I'm stuck in this dark space.
And then,
There are moments of brightness and laughter and joy. There are times where I feel beyond grateful for those around me. There are moments where I feel so much love and kindness and I don't feel so alone.
When I'm sitting around the dinner table with my family playing games, and we are still managing to laugh despite the pain.
How strange is it to watch somebody you used to know change? Someone who helped you through college, took care of you when you were sick, had your back when you needed him. Now is a ghost of himself. Sometimes he is present, and other times he isn't there at all. You can't trust the doctors because you don't know who is really good. You can't trust caretakers because how can you? How are we supposed to trust strangers to be in charge of a life that is so loved and cherished to our family? To me?
I'm tired and I cry all the time. I flake on plans and feel guilty but I just don't have the strength or energy to socialize. I just want to sleep the day away, but I know that's not what he would want.
Does he know how badly I want him to get better? Does he know how much I love him? Is he listening when he's lying there with his eyes closed? How badly I would give to hear him make a snarky joke or be his old self again. How badly I would give for him to talk my ear off about minor things.
I want to sit and watch scary movies with you, and go on long drives. I hear The Cure or The Smiths and I just want to sing with you. I want you to talk to me when I ask you questions. I want you to make me laugh. I want you to laugh at me when I give you crap.
All of the things that I took for granted for years are right in front of me, judging me. Asking me how I could take such a good man for granted?
Will you ever get better? Will I ever see the old dad that wanted to help me with finances, my car, show me music, text me jokes? Someone I went to for advice when I was stressed at work or when I didn't understand something in school. Somebody to pester me about how school is going or "have I got my oil changed yet". When he's laying there in his hospital bed, does he realize how many people want him to push on? Does he know how deeply loved he is? Does he know I'd give anything for him to be himself again?
When I sit next to your bed, holding your hand, do you hear me playing 80s music? "There is a light that never goes out" by the Smiths plays to the sound of your hospital monitor beeping. Do you hear it? Do you remember when we drove from San Jose to San Francisco blasting New Order, and we sang and danced together? Do you remember dropping everything and coming all the way to my home in Oregon when you found out I had a concussion? All of these little things that I didn't think much of mean more to me now than ever. These memories are like little, rare diamonds that I hold close to me so tightly.
I miss you,
while you're right in front of me.
How can this be true?
Comments