so i go, five fathom deep. i am the undertow; i wait peacefully.

[erika]

Long drive for a family funeral where everyone's eyes overwhelmed with essence of ocean at the same time, the first few notes of Taps.

Surreal. Flashing in and out. I stop listening when they start picking at me, all isn't that enough lunch for three people? I say nothing and eat it all as quickly as possible, though it's seemingly composed of nothing but starch and grease. So then I can escape.

Laura (no, she prefers JJ, after her head injury), meeting her—her delicate twin of a mother, my aunt, but Laura's spark and love and tumultuous necessity—that was worth it, if that were the only thing.

We talk on and off through the four days I'm in Colorado, and I do some deep breathing with her before the service. It's her father, and she was his favorite, and now he's gone, and I have no idea how I would feel but I can't imagine breathing would really help—but it does.

Eventually she tells me the nasty details because I can't contain my inner curiosity cat any longer—oh yes, well, it was a gang initiation that made the head injury worse... and permanent, if it had just been that patient attacking me then I might have been fine—calm as I am when I talk about how desperately I wanted to die.

I pick up her son's cat and she says but I don't mind telling you because I like you with an air of surprise, and I nod and say I won't make you do the part where you have to reassure me about how it really wasn't that bad when it's your shit to begin with.

She appreciates it and gifts me with some plants to take home. Her father is gone and she's adrift, but our chilled digits have kept their grip by some miracle and we're holding each other. We've held hands through the infinite night of her shipwreck—adrift, but tethered, should there be the opportunity to come back.

Comments

[quirkytizzy]

This is so beautifully written. A snapshot with words. People say pictures are often worth a thousand words. But those people have just never met people who write well.

You do.

The images and feelings evoked in this are strong and poignant.

You are wise - to tell her that she does not need to reassure you for HER pain. Too often we are required to do that just to get along. To be polite. You know how rare that is to find someone who is aware of that problem? Rare. And you are aware.

Thank you for writing this. I am glad I read it.

[untonuggan]

♥

[enemyofperfect]

Oh, your penultimate paragraph. That's wisdom and skill, knowing not to try to take other people's shit from them and then buckle under the weight.

I'm glad you both had those moments.

[erika]

<3

[erika]

<3

[erika]

<3