The Sandbox

Amnesia, Art, Healing

8/27/17

6:12AM

Authenticity

Before leaving yesterday we had breakfast with my parents. 

We told them that we were going to get married. No date yet. And it will be just a justice of the peace situation with meals and celebrations privately with family and friends after the fact when we see them. 

Pete and I knew we wanted and needed to say something this trip. I knew the timing was about right. I wanted to give them some good news. I wanted them to feel that I would be okay, that I’d officially and formally found my person. 

As we drove to breakfast I told Pete this reminded me of when I told them years ago that N and I were splitting up. Telling them made it real. It was a line I was crossing just like hitting the “send” button when I filed the complaint. 

It felt like it was a declaration to them but also to us. 

As we arrived at breakfast and as the moment approached while we were sitting at the table though, I lost completely what I thought I would feel by delivering this news. 

A

Which was?

S

I lost my joy.

A

How did your parents react?

S

They were happy and moved. And I acted the same. 

But I’d lost my joy, the joy I’ve mostly felt around my relationship with Pete. My love seemed to be hiding in a room I’d locked myself out of. 

As I grasped to locate my love for Pete, which I could not—and still cannot find—I realize now that this reminds me,  of my obsession years ago. Where I knew I loved Pete but my feelings were gone. 

A

Keep going. 

S

As we sat with my parents I could see my father’s discomfort—his switching the subject constantly and completely away from our marriage and not in a cruel or egotistical manner. It was something other. Like I was leaving him—officially and finally—the way most women eventually do and it was hard on him. 

A

Yes. 

S

It hurts to tap out here, A. It makes me cry. 

A

Yes.

S

We got through the breakfast and eventually onto our flight where I began to sob. There I was again, on a Southwest flight crying. I’d cried before, a few years ago, about Astro Park on a Southwest flight—with so much abandon that the flight attendant brought me kleenex. 

I know it’s the leaving fish, A. 

And this one’s a whopper. 

It is about the growing up I didn’t in some respects ever do. 

About being in a frozen state as I could not face the pain. 

In my heart I left my father when I was very young and now, I reunite to say…goodbye. 

Goodbye because I’m leaving to be with Pete. 

Goodbye because he is now ninety one.

Oh A, it feels too much to bear. I am not good at this, have avoided all of it my entire life. 

A

It does not, S, feel good. But oh Not Gods it is right.

ThereThere

S, let me put my ocean arms around you and say…there there. Our tears are dots connecting. We cry not out of confusion and blindness anymore but out of clarity. 

S

Pete tells me not to grieve before it’s time but that’s like trying to hold back the tides. It is purely impossible. 

ThereThere

Allow, allow, allow.