Squared

 You describe it all in detail, and I have so many feelings I don't know where to begin. I vacillate between wanting to run, die, and scream. I sit silent because what on earth could I possibly say? What words could ever be said to fix this shit show that you have forced me into? 

It's unfair and dishonest to say that I don't know you. I want to hurt you the way that you have hurt me, knowing full well that isn't possible and that breaking someone else does not un-break me. What the hell were you thinking? What were you wanting? What the hell was going on that you chose this? 

I have walked through a million nights of hell to be with you. I have fought all of your demons, been the punching bag to your rage, and kept you safe while you slept. I gave you every single ounce of all that I am, and this? This is what you choose?

I'm exhausted from discussing all of the details. I am exhausted from hearing it all. I am exhausted from feeling all of the ramifications of the punches and the blows. I don't think I'm strong enough to navigate this. But somehow, I'm still here. 

Loving you has been the greatest joy of my life. Being with you has been devastating. Isn't it strange that is how it works with us? I love, you destroy. I build, you break. You win, I lose. 

Where the hell am I in this? I have no idea. I feel like you put me in a canoe, pushed me away from the shore, and set the whole world on fire. I'm sitting there, feeling the heat of it all, helpless to stop it, and shattering into a thousand pieces with every blast of flame, every spark that flies into the sky, every building crumbling down. Why do you have the power to be so destructive to me? Why are you able to break me? Because I.love.you. Only you. Always you. I love the way you look in the morning. I love the way you get frustrated about stupid things. I love the way you can't handle things, but you try anyway. I love the way that you make me laugh like no one else on the planet. I love the feel of my head on your chest and the sound of your heart beating. I love that you tuck the blankets around me when I fall asleep. I love making you smile, or driving you crazy with all of my words and my thoughts and my ideas. I love thinking about you all day long. I love being next to you at night. I love that my heart skips a bit any and every single time you are near me. I love that as big and as hard as I love people, no one on this planet has ever held a candle to how much I fucking love you. I also hate it. I hate it so much because I am not safe with you. My heart has never been something that you have kept secure. You beat it over and over again, and I don't know if this destruction is something I can get past. I want to. I want to be able to say that you can't destroy my ability to love you. But I don't know... Maybe this is it. Maybe this choice was the final straw... 

I'm still here. Silent. Waiting until I know.

Cubed

 I was digging through a bin, looking for the jewelry tools so I could fix my necklace. Your red rosary was sitting there and it jingled in a way that caught my attention. I picked it up and saw "St Therese" on it. I remember when you asked me to fix it. I remember that I thought I had the right supplies. You wanted to take it with you to college, but I didn't have the right supplies. You left, and here it sat. I fixed it tonight. 

Raising children is like holding water in your hands. You cup them together and do your best to keep all of the water safe and sound. It trickles down the cracks or evaporates away until one day, you look down at your hands, and all that is there are the remnants of water that remind you of how full of water your hands once were. 

Every moment that I got to hold you was fantastic. Every time I got to listen to your beautiful mind or experience the intensity of your fabulous heart, there was a sparkle in my mind. It was like a star glowing in the sky or like jewelry sparkling in the sun. It's bizarre that I am sitting in your old room writing this entry. It's shitty that I don't get to see you every day anymore. I miss you. I've said a thousand times how angry I would be at you if you didn't go, and that remains true. I would be so sad if you stopped growing, thriving, and developing your identity on your own. But I remember when you were the tiniest creature and I could hold you close to my chest. I remember when you would say silly things and giggle like crazy. I remember watching you battle a body that was breaking and being terrified that God was going to take you to heaven before me. I remember when you cried because your best friend liked you, but you didn't like him back, and you hated hurting and disappointing him. I remember being helpless while a chemical broke your body and your mind, making me so absolutely angry that words can't even describe it. I remember when you hugged me in Bismarck and walked away. I remember sobbing because I knew that from that point forward, you and I would never have the same relationship we once had (not for the better or the worse, just different). 

I was never a mom before you. My journey of parenting is changing, and that is beautiful. It's funny what a broken rosary will do...

Grief

 I've been sitting here staring at this blinking cursor for an hour. The darkness into which I have fallen... I wonder sometimes, when you are evaluating me in the future, what my assigned role will be. The saint? The sinner? The strong? The broken? 

I died on December 10, 2022. My execution has been strong yet slow. The demise of everything I loved the most took seconds to come. Yet when the wave, or the avalanche, or nuclear bomb hit... well, you know what it all looked like. I wish for a million other things than this. I would rather rip off my flesh or anything but this, yet here we are. Here we've been...

I don't know how to breathe anymore. I don't know how to think, ask, or advocate. I don't know how to do anything anymore and it's the most pathetic way to feel. I look in the mirror, and I hate everything about myself. I hate the person I am now. I hate the way that I feel. I hate everything that is and I miss with every ounce of my being what was before and will never again be. 

People talk about surviving, and I have no fight in it. What is there to survive? Death? I hold onto the moment when I go to the grave, and my soul and my body cease their connection. I look forward to the release of this devastation, and the freedom to see it all unfazed, unfoggy, and clear. What do I do here, my loves? Who am I now? Who are we?