She did the deed on March 26th and was tidily buried on April 1st. I still expect her to walk in the shop, late, opening a bottle of water and cracking wise. It's not like I think about it every day. But it's there, isn't it?What was so fucking bad, Di? I'm not so simple a creature that I think everything is clear to someone outside the situation, but come on. Two beautiful (irritating, unappreciative, typical) teenagers. A husband who loves you (and doesn't hear you, and isn't a communicator, duh.) Your adorable puppies (who shit in the house,) your hobbies (miniatures might not be for the obsessive,) your friends (the church was full of people you obviously never confided in.) Gorgeous house (mortgage,) nice clothes and humongous diamonds everywhere (maybe they were your friends?) Parents who drank and didn't understand you? Rough life. Fuck you.
I guess I'll never have the chance to know why you didn't share your pain with me. I guess I shouldn't presume to understand the level of your unhappiness or judge your decision to check out. It's not fair of me to do so. I didn't walk in your shoes. But I'm pretty pissed off because I was always honest with you and you LIED to me. Apparently a lot. Over a ridiculous amount of time. So you're going to have to bear with me when I say that you fucking copped out.
But then I'm still breathing and you're not.
I'm still dealing with all the disappointment of the imperfect life. Didn't get the perfect parental units. Didn't marry the perfect man. Haven't found my bliss, or my purpose, or even a simple fucking reason to keep drawing breath, but here I am still doing it. Some days I drown in it. Some days I'm numb. But. I'm. Still. Here. And you, my fucked up friend, are not.
I win.
I think.
2 comments:
I know it still hurts. ILU
Mamma - I know that sometimes just getting up and out of bed is a feat worthy of a ballad in and of itself. I know you miss your friend, and I know that you are angry, and rightfully so. Did I ever tell you about Ryan's friend who killed himself? It was just after they graduated, and not only did he kill himself pretty gorily, but he never gave any indication why. He never seemed depressed, never seemed distraught. Every year on the anniversary of his death, Ryan goes on a drunk bender, goes out somewhere no one can hear him, and yells at the sky, to his friend, how fucking angry he still is.
I am sorry.
And I love you, and partly it is because you get up and keep breathing, even when it is hard.
xoxoxox <3
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