3

I suppose "you" are wondering why the sudden rush of words today. I'm not sure, why, really, other than maybe it's the last day of 2007, and perhaps I'm in a rush to tell my story that tomorrow may be a new day. A new life. Recovery. Healing.


I'm afraid I have to jump around on my story. Don't worry, you'll get every detail in time, but today, I have to go forward, so that I may go back.

She and I packed our things last year, on this day. We hurried through fireworks because we "had" to, it's tradition, after all. Kindof like baking cookies for Santa on Christmas Eve, in the rush of getting kids to sleep and looking at lights, and all of the other things you are "supposed" to do on traditional holidays. We didn't sleep too long. We both got up, knowing it would be the last journey in seeing him alive. The drive was quiet. We didn't speak much. We couldn't listen to the radio, as every singer seemed to be telling us the same thing.
Later, she would tell me that it seemed as if I needed to say goodbye more than she did. Funny how children are perceptive. I still worry that this is true. Did I ruin her innocence for my profit? I'll never know until she tells me. It will probably be a long time coming. I won't be proud if she says it's not true.

He looked less than human. I wondered if he could see through these open eyes. I want to believe he could. I want to believe he could hear, as I told him thank you for waiting. He promised he would wait for us. Did he know we were there? I want to think so. I want to think that he heard me promise I'd take care of her like I have her entire life. Why did I feel the need to tell him that? Why did I feel the need to make everything okay for him? Forgiveness, I suppose. I forgave a lot, mostly, myself.
His breathing was labored. They say you hear a death rattle. I believe he had one that entire week. His eyes stayed opened until the very end. I seriously doubt, with the disease he had invading his brain to the point of it coming out of his nose, that he knew anything that went on. A part of me hopes, for her sake. Not for mine. Maybe I just answered the question.


I whispered to him. I told him we were forgiven. I told him I'd teach her how to look for the deer in the treeline in September. I told him I'd take care of the two girls he was leaving behind. Who was going to take care of me, though?


I'm going to have to take care of myself, as well.

He died a week later. Another long car trip in silence. Pomp and circumstance ensued, as he was a local hero. I couldn't believe I was even part of it. I didn't want to be. My pride prohibited me. I did it, though. I did it for her. Every good thing I had ever become was lost for those moments. All I felt like was screaming how no one knew the truth. That on the outside, it all seemed so ugly. They couldn't know the last talk we had in the driveway. Tears like they were before. That in that moment, he legitimized me, her. I was angry, afterwards, mad at myself for having the need to feel legitimized from someone who was so rotten to me. He turned into a good person, though, mostly. I need to remember that. I need to let it all go into something beautiful, colorful. Cobalt.

Mostly, these days, it's still gray. I feel like the past 15 years have been spent mostly in gray. I feel like I am just waking up, to that 19 year old pregnant girl. I'm afraid all of the things I have done in the past 15 years amount to not much in the "life of me" category. I have been living for others. I have raised, and continue to raise, 3 beautiful children. They have been my life, though. I have not concentrated on me, have not concentrated on the healing. I have sat sedentary, for so long, that I'm not sure how to be the adult I want to be. I always say that I want to live when I grow up.. I want to live. Starting today. Or tomorrow, whenever.