In The Midst of the Unpredictable
Although it's still relatively early in the night, I'm awfully tired. I woke up too early after going to bed too late. I try to promise myself that I won't do that but sometimes circumstance gets the better of you. In this case, as in the last few of this past week, M has been rabidly busy - no time to sit or stop moving, she has been running from one thing to the next - and, because I want to accompany her, I end up staying up. This is new in a way... When we were first together I stayed up because the "in love" part was always on "go," but then things slowed down. When I moved in with her, we got used to each other, we had our own lives. Mine involves sleeping. As much as I can. There are plenty of times when I don't sleep, or don't sleep well, and they are alway when I'm on the road, working. So, as I say, today it's something different...
Two nights ago M and I were driving home from a function and suddenly, looking out the window at the passing rugged landscape I realized that I was no longer tied to Carlisle, the home I shared iwth my brother and his wife. I have loved it from the moment I set eyes on the place and will cherish forever the gift of having lived with my one and only brother, but things have changed. The last time M and I visited him at the Carlisle house, there was unnecessary tension for me. It was Michael's 40th birthday and months ago I'd wanted to make a big deal out of it: contact his best pals way in advance, have everyone go in on an elaborate gift that he'd be sure to love, have a big BBQ in Carlisle, the whole nine. I thought that his first birthday after The Death, and the fact that it was his 40th merited a TO DO. But no. The disorganization that permeates his current existence made it impossible for anything predictable to happen, so when M and I arrived, what we were served was the unpredictable. Knowing him and his wife as well as I do I should have predicted that: the unpredictable, so, yes, in a way it's my own goddamned fault, but the crashing disappointment I felt as a result wasn't.
This brings us to the night two nights ago when I was staring out the window on the drive home in CA... I felt the last "string" tying me emotionally to my old life there suddenly snap. One second it was there, the next gone, and I realized that it meant that M really was all that I have now. Not that my brother is gone, it's just... It feels like the time I let go of Mom and moved out to San Francisco to try out my wings. I never had before then. I'd lived with or near Mom my whole life and liked it just fine. I'm a "late bloomer." For real. I mature late. I say that in the present tense because it's still going on... Anyway, at that time in my life I had left NYC due to a nervous breakdown, basically. The move out West that first time PISSED MOM OFF and we had a big fight. I screamed at her: "YOU did this! YOU made me stay! YOU made me your best friend when I need you to be MY MOTHER! Now you HAVE TO LET ME GO!" And yes, it was as dramatic as I'm making it sound here. To her credit Mom left the room, took a breath, and somehow miraculously came back in and, with an ashen, surprised face, said: "You're absolutely right. I did do that to you. I'm so sorry."
After that we talked for hours. About everything. About me. About her, her life and how she grew up - basically raising herself. At the end she understood why I was feeling the things I was feeling, and, to my eternal amazement, did something I will try to emultae for the rest pf my life: she put aside her own feelings in favor of supporting mine. She stood up and said, excitedly (my mother, at 68, could be excited like a 4-year-old): "I'll help you pack!"
I felt a detachment then, but it was quasi-good/quasi-intended. Parent let's go of child, child grows up, blah, blah, blah... This thing with my brother feels different. I never wanted to feel detached from him. I guess the center of it, though, is that he doesn't need to feel attached to me. I definitely feel a NEED to be attached to him. We're each other's only sibling, and OUR mother died. We should have a bond, and make efforts for one another. But I can't do it alone. Like when I have troubles with M - we need to resolve them together. I can't be both sides of something.
So, I looked out the window and felt the snapping of the string. A string I know was only in me, which is why it hurts so much.
And so now there's M. I turned to her and told her I loved her. She smiled. And today I cried in her arms because I was tired and had been wrestling with a Mom dream, and it was soon time for M to go to work and I didn't want her to go.
There's this powerfully painful memory I have: Mom had been visiting me in NYC. One of the few times she did that. We had a great time, were inseparable, and when it came time to leave I took her to the train station myself. In the middle of Grand Central we said goodbye. I don't know why we'd decided that I wouldn't go all the way to her track with her and see her actually get on the train, but that's what happened. Anyway, so we hugged and looked as supportive for each other as we could, and then she turned and walked away. I turned for a second and felt my heart drop into my stomach with a terrifying, nauseating thud. Immediately I turned back around and ran toward Mom. She heard my steps because hse turned and we fell into an embrace and both cried like we were never going to see each other again.
It is my truest feeling that EVERY moment is precious. Every one. Iv always felt this way, although it's gotten more acute in the last several years of my "adulthood." Every moment should be cried over like it was going to be your last. It just very simply could be. What a gift: to know that any moment could be your last with a person. That give us such easy rules to follow: always be a good person. Don't ever slack off. It's not as hard as it sounds. And yes, I count myself as a very good person.
I can't remember what Mom and I did that day in Grand Central. I can't remember if I decided to say "fuck it" and went with her or what. What I do know is that I wanted to. The way I know that I wish she was still alive today and that I miss her so much it makes living - every day - difficult.