July 4th

I can't remember the last July 4th I spent with my mother. I remember Christmasses. We weren't at all religious, my family, but we never missed a midnight mass because of the singing. I grew up on singing in the house. Opera records, my parents singing opera, Mom playing flamenco things on her little classical guitar. I never knew how she learned to play. I'm sure she taught herself. Her cousin, Eduardo - who Michael and I call our "uncle" because he's older, it's easier, and he really was more like a brother to mom - played in a "Tuna" back in Peru. A Tuna is a group of singers, like a mariachi band except not at all like that. Think more "Student Prince" than "Desperado."

Anyway, last night M and I didn't go anywhere for "The Fourth" except to the movies and then down the road a bit to walk our dog before bed. There were some light fireworks done by the kids in the neighborhood and we watched some of those from the curb, but it wasn't the typical "get everybody ready we're going to go out and watch the fireworks" type of evening. It was an afterthought. And so relaxing because of that. It was amazing to not feel the pressure of having to go anywhere or be prepared in any way to be happy. I was happy, it was just organic and a little sleepy rather than the usual holiday-manic.

Last night I also had a horrific dream. In the re-telling it won't seem horrific, but trust me, it was awful. I was in the New Haven house with Michael and Dad. But the house was in Boston because M was out visiting with her friend Jack. It was morning and Dad, Michael and I were chatting in the kitchen. And by "chatting" I mean that they were ignoring me while they talked and I was sitting there pathetically taking it like I always do (something I really need to change...). Anyway, so there we were, and then suddenly I noticed the time. It was 10:00am and I realized that M's and my flight was at Noon, not that evening. I wasn't packed and M was out. And so I FREAKED. I started running around the house looking for all of my things, but they were everywhere. I had to find everything super-quickly OR ELSE. Yes, the "or else" didn't make any sense, but something still felt just awful. I called M and told her about our flight and she said that that was actually perfect because she was at the airport just then dropping off Jack and the kids. They were going on vacation. She said she would just stay there and wait for me. She had her bag with her - all packed and mellow and ready to go. I kept thinking desperately that I had to get to her. That if I didn't she would somehow leave. Where she would go, or why she would get on a plane to go home without me also made no sense, but, again, this was a dream and clearly something in me that needed to be worked out. BADLY. So, anyway, I was running desperately around the house crying harder and harder and more desperately, like if I didn't get to the airport I'd never see M again, something like that. And through it all Michael and Dad kept -----

talking.

Oh holy shit... I just figured it out. Wouldn't take a rocket scientist... Michael and Dad kept talking while I was crying my eyes out, desperate to get to M "or else." It's a mirror to that awful night when I was alone in the hospital with Mom. Oh hell... Michael and Dad were away at Tanglewood. In the middle of Mom dying they went far away. I know that for my Dad it was really important to do that because he needed a break so badly. So badly... But for Michael to go... I was so angry that he still went. To sing. If the way that that evening had gone had been that Michael insisted on staying but that Dad begged him to go because he (Dad) needed the break, then it would have been better. I'm angry because I never saw any struggle in Michael. Never saw any desperation that he was about to lose his mother. And on the one night when it was the absolute worst I was alone. The ultimate abandonment. I am alone in the hospital when the most important, most connecting person in my life almost died in front of me. Yes, Michael deserved to be the one there on her last nght - which was a couple of days later - but it was also important that it not be me because I now realize that I wouldn't have been able to handle it. Not one bit. I would have screamed and cried and begged her not to go. Just like I did in my dream...

I think I just said good bye to my mother, y'all. I think I just said good bye to her in that dream last night. Or she to me. Something like that. One or both of us is letting each other go. How awful. How sad it makes me.

I was rushing and rushing and crying and crying looking for all of my clothes... M was waiting for me at the airport. She wouldn't have left without me... but Mom did. She had to. Something like that. I'm still working it all out, but I think something huge just happened.

I'm going to take some time today to work and think about all this. I thank you all for reading this. My love for you is huge - those of you who I know are reading this. Thank you all so much.

All my love,
Alexia